Mouse trap. Or, never trust a teacher.

Oh, I shouldn't share this, but I found it so amusing I can't help myself.
I rushed home today at 2:50 to change for the teacher-student volleyball game (we won, btw). I had a student meeting me at 3:00, another meeting at 3:15 and volleyball at 3:30, so I was rushed for time. Just as I walk out into the kitchen, I hear a scratching noise. 'oh no', I think, 'we've caught the mouse'.
Now, I'm really excited about catching the mouse, it's been worrisome having an unwanted house guest around. But the traps are glue traps so it means that if we do catch a mouse, it will be alive for a while, struggling. That's not O.K. I have no problem with killing mice, all things must die, but I do have a problem with prolonging suffering for any one. So I walked over and sure enough, a little mouse was franticly scrambling around the floor, dragging the trap behind him. (this ends well for the mouse, don't worry) I scooped him up in a can and, using the trap as a lid, walked out the door. What the heck am I going to do now? I have too many meetings to take the time to drown the thing, I don't know enough kreyol to ask the guards to take care of it, and I don't want to release it near the apartments. Then I saw two of my twelfth grade students walking towards me. Let's just say these two guys are leaders at the school. They dominate socially, in sports and are often talking too much in class. Perfect. I walk over to them and hand them the can. They are understandably suspicious, but it's when I flick the can so that the mouse drops out that the beauty occurs. I hadn't really thought through what I was going to do, so the mouse jumping out at the boys was startling to me as well. But oh, the sound those two soon-to-be- men made. In a matter of seconds they had put the distance of half a football field between us, screaming at the top of their lungs. They stood there, yelling at me, twitching and shaking,  while I doubled over. I might have broken their trust forever, but the look on their faces... priceless.  (both of them have since spoken to me, socially, so I know there is no permanent scarring. just maybe payback.) I guess the ultimate winner is the mouse. He escaped into the bushes to live another day. The End.

November 13th

For lack of a better title, this will have to do.  At least it shows you all that nothing serious is going on, just another update, no major life changes... Or maybe chronicling the non-extraordinary is a major change?
I tend to wait for the BIG NEWS or the saddest day, or the darkest moment to write a blog. I am reminded of my network out there when something upsets my network here. And that is human and that is wrong.
My everyday is filled with little things, good and bad, and if I don't take the time to share them with you, we will meet one day over coffee and I will stare at you as my words bottleneck in my throat. How to explain a year in a few hours? So here is my week so far:

An unexpected miscommunication a week ago sent me into a tailspin of worry and negativity.  On Monday I scraped my gumption out from behind the stairs where it had been hiding and confronted my fear of more bad news and scheduled the dreaded meeting. It took only 15 minutes to rewire the entire incident so that I could take the same conversation that had initially floored me and forced me back into my little self-protecting shell and use it to encourage my soul.  Monday was a day of affirmation. I am where I am wanted and where I am useful.

As 9th grade co-advisor, this week and last has been an exercise in herding cats. Never will I ever complain about working with music people (You know who you are, and I love you). 13 year olds are infinitely worse. My Co-advisor is home-schooled, and I've never done this before so we are as green as can be. Each meeting we learn a little more about ourselves and the students. They are having a movie night on Friday and at this point I feel very much as if we are in a cartoon car careening though the 2D corridors of planning and preparation. People bouncing around, dropping out, changing places. No driver, three drivers, suddenly we're in a boat? But getting to know the kids is totally worth it. They are, each one of them, stealing their way into my heart. Don't you dare tell ANY of them that.  What a privilege it is to work in a place where hugs are encouraged, and relationships are priority.

Today I had a student walk out of my class because he was feeling 'unwell'. I followed him out the door, feeling out of control. I knew he wasn't really physically ill, and I knew he was a good kid. What could I do?  I pulled him into the hallway and had him face me, and it clicked. He was having a panic attack. Could I talk him down from this?  My usually insecure, overanalyzing, paralyzed self disappeared without a trace. I was superwoman (and yes, a bit momish) and I looked him straight in the eyes (which were about 20 cm above mine... seniors..) and bullied him into calm. He went for a quick walk and came back to class. And it hit me: I know so much more about how to work with him than I did before the attack. This kid had been an enigma to me, and now I had at least the beginnings of a vocabulary. After school he stopped by for a meeting he had been blowing off for a week now. Relationship.

So as I go forward, I still struggle with dark days. There are major life happenings that are painful and cause suffering. There are days I yell at God, and turn my back on Him in frustration. But there are also days like today in which I'm ok with my own imperfection - getting close to the idea that His perfection cancels out my need for this.
Goodnight, goodnight.. and as my 9th graders now say 'parting is such sweet sorrow'

Waking Up

The little copier is whirhing away in the corner. It's ten PM and no one is in the staff room but myself. There are many perks about living on campus, and using the staff room for printing at all hours is definitely top of that list. As the worksheets spit out on to the tray for tomorrow, I look at my calendar this morning and realized this thursday is Hallow's e'en. I did not realize time had moved so quickly.

Here it is, a month and a half since my last update and what feels like a century between.

Life here is very busy for me. As a new teacher, everything is learning. I'm learning, my students are learning, my co-workers are learning about me, I'm learning how to teach teenagers.  I'm overkilling the metaphor, but you get my point. It's hard to stop and process it in bite size bundles.

Since I last wrote I've seen a little more of this country. When I try to write about it, the words all bottleneck in my throat and I can't put it onto the paper. All I can say is, come see it with me! It's an adventure! It is worth it. 

Let me tell you a bit about today. Teaching my usual classes brings the usual ups and downs. pushing and pulling students to co-operate and then suddenly they run ahead and I am almost stopped up short by their sudden leap of understanding. Between my own learning curve and theirs, most days are a challenging dance of communication, miscommunication and recommunciation. But today I got to do something special. Ashley, a fellow English teacher, asked me if I wanted to dress up as Jane Austen for her intro to Pride and Prejudice. Would I like to? hmm.  It will come as no surprise to many that I managed to create a credible regency outfit out of clothes I had lying around the place. I even managed a wrapped turban! (There are pictures, never fear. they will surface soon) In preparing for this, I wondered how far to go. Should I do the accent? Should I be Jane or should I just give them facts and figures? I almost prepared a lecture, but stopped myself and realized that I would enjoy being Jane. It would be a fun challenge. I spent the day mildly distracted, as I began to prep for the role. Ashley had prepared tea and blankets in the chapel and all students were instructed to bring a teacup. So as they gathered around, I grabbed the mike and started speaking. Up pipes one boy, calling me out on my very un-british accent. So I take a deep breath and respond in the queen's english. Miraculously, I struck the one accent I could keep steady for 30 minutes. I did have a few flashbacks to high school English class, where our teacher made us use the 'correct' english pronunciation in order to get a grade.  Well, I explained my character to the students and asked for questions. They kept questions coming for 20 minutes! I was impressed! One kid even asked if there were dragons in the regency era. I told him YES, we had just started excavating a large dragon skeleton near our house. We couldn't believe the size of it. I think they were a little disappointed when they realized I meant dinosaur bones.  Then one of the students asked about entertainment and I told them we liked to sing rounds in the evening. So, walking into the trap with my eyes wide open, I told them I enjoyed it. So up pops the next hand. 'Can you sing for us now?' and for a few moments I hesitated. Some of you know my history with singing. I can sing. I just get so nervous I don't always pull it off. But I knew that I could sing a song in the way Jane would have heard it sung, and I knew it would really sell the character. I didn't know if I could actually find the breath support I needed to pull it of. And it was such a little thing in the midst of all the other big things going on, but I recognized an important choice: Do I maintain control, or do I let go and see what happens? 

So I said yes, and I sang. Not good, not bad, but period appropriate and I achieved my goal. Little moments like this get me through the day.

In the end it was a blast. I'm even toying with the idea of doing this for my class. How many of you think I would make a good Mark Twain?

To give you a short insight into my students, I sat down today with two of my best 11th graders. At that table, with the three of us, we pooled all of our countries together. We had Trinidad, Jamaica, Haiti, Canada, America, England, France and Belgium all bottled up in our three little bodies. These are my students. They are as nationalistically challenged as I am. One of them can't wait to get out of Haiti. She reminds me of me.. never sure of where home is, but always hoping the next stop will be more comfortable. The other doesn't want to leave Haiti. She's not sure where else she will be able to maintain a balance between her three countries. These are the worries my students have. Very few of them know for sure where home is.

And here am I, teaching them Shakespeare and Mark Twain, Fitzgerald and Elliot and asking them to trust me in their importance.

The last class period before the Austen event, I had a student share her frustration with me over another class. She slipped in and out of French and Kreyol and the conversation did not slow down. I tried early on to enforce an English only rule, but it's almost impossible to enforce, especially when I feel more comfortable in a multi lingual environment. Let's face it, I couldn't stick to just English myself for an hour, so empathy for the students is in order.

Well, the copies are finished and I must to bed. Two more days and then an extended weekend!

Peace with you all!

Over analyzers anonymous

It's a tuesday. Not the best time for writing a blog, but I'm learning that NOW is always a good time to do things.

I woke up 5 minutes before my class started today. walking in, I was mortified to see my principal up front. Thank God Art is a kind hearted leader, as I was close to tears as it was.

I struggle with mornings. Always have. This morning, on top of everything else, I was having a mild Asthma 'reaction'.  Great.
Here is why that can be so discouraging:
i purposed yesterday that I would finish the lesson planning AND reading for my 12th graders so that I would be prepared for them. And I had finished. Kicking myself to stay awake and focused, I finally crawled into bed around 11. Not a bad hour, but still, I'd pushed myself for the last hour to finish. And so I woke up tired and not breathing well.  It's enough to make me want to cry.  If I push myself in one area, I will pay for it in another.
And I over analyze. Everything.  How does one not? Even this post is veering into over analyzation.

As I sat, feeling overwhelmed with it all, I read an email from a new contact. Someone who has taught English in the past. Her first words were 'you are teaching all of that? How are you not overwhelmed? Let me see what I can send you.' And I realized... I am overwhelmed. I can't keep up.  But there are people who will come alongside when I need them.
...

And now it's Wednesday and I've made it through another day. I chose to not attend worship and to forgo singing the wonderful worship songs I had picked out. All day was spent in a haze. Frustration mounting, hunger mounting... loneliness filling all the cracks that were left.
Fear began biting at my most vulnerable areas. What if it just gets worse? what if I... and I then began to realize that there is no 'I'.  This person, the 'I' so often blamed or praised for things, can't do anything. God can.

So I sleep. I eat. I grade. and I open my email and someone has sent me a year outline for 12th grade british lit (Which is priceless. so, so helpful) and I move forward.
My lungs and sinuses are in God's hands.
And then in bible study, someone said 'it's possible to be in the freedom of Christ without the Identity in him'.  There it is. That is my illness.

If this post doesn't make sense ( a perennial fear) it is because I am trying to avoid two extremes. I am trying to live in the beginning of identity.

In the meantime... I get to work this out in fear and trembling, WHILE working my dream job, in a crazy country I am finding more and more fascinating.

Churches

It's saturday again, and that means I get to wander further from campus. Today I wandered all the way down town in John Ackerman's truck.  And I saw for the first time just how big this city is, and how big this country is. It made me pensive. John had a refreshing view on Haiti, one that is hard to live by and does not allow for first world do-gooder glamorizing. I put that out there to give you a context for the following post.

 As I sat down to write this I realized my inspiration to write does not come in my darker moments when I'm ready to crawl into a hole and stay there, but in those moments when I see things that I want to share - cool things, fun things. 

But that's not where my heart has truly been at these last few days. It's been rough. And in many ways, it hasn't been rough in ways I expected. 

My apartment is clean and cool. I have a cleaning lady and a laundry lady. I've been able to eat fairly well. What has been rocking my world lately is my lack of a home. Or, to put the problem in another light, I have too many homes. Where is my home? What is my normal? I find that I have too many places that I miss. It's stopping me from engaging in this, this one-more-stop-on-the-road. This week has been hard. I've had to push myself to engage with student, with staff.  I tell myself that this uncomfortableness is temporary, that soon I will feel at home. But I know that this is as unstable a place as any other. And for the first time, I find myself surrounded by people who think like me, and yet are different. There are people here I can learn from, and people I can teach. And somehow this is overwhelming. In every move you are asked to let go of the past. What I struggle with is the fear of letting go of the past and not having a future to fill it with. 

How do I explain this week? I've been missing places. Bokrijk. Plankendaele. Leuven. Nyack. New York. Nanuet. 9w. Bear Mountain. Carnforth. Capernwray. Mersey Side. Oxford. Paris. Oostende. Hastings. 

I've been missing things I didn't do. Hike Bear Mountain.  Go adventuring through the North York Moors. Keep my Guitar. Take acting classes. Stay in basketball.

It's a swirling mess inside my head. 

'to understand me, you'll have to swallow a world' Salman Rushdie said, 

And I think it's true. You'd have to swallow multiple worlds to know me.

but that's not really the heart of the matter. 

I have so many worlds in me, so much information that I've stored away. Why is that? I wondered - 

I used each world I knew to mask the insecurities, the fears, the terror at times of being un-moored in the world. I wonder what security must feel like.  But I've been called into a new life. I must now believe that I am enough. I don't need my worlds to do what I was created to do. This truth is world-changing (pun intended) and it leaves me wondering what I really think or feel about anything. 

I saw the PaP cathedral today, what was left standing of it. I had goosebumps. It was so much more than what I'm going to make of it in this next paragraph, but for today I took this away from it:

St. Maarten's kerk, Zaventem

I've always been drawn to cathedrals. 

 Stone walls built to hold sacred time have always quieted me in a way.

Nyack Episcopal Church. NY.

Capernwray Chapel, U.K.

 In all the places I've lived, churches have drawn me in - just to sit and pray. 

When I think of my faith, I often think of Notre Dame in Paris and the rose window. 

Saint Chapelle. Paris.

Notre Dame. Paris.

Seeing the cathedral in ruins made me think of my own life. Sickness, moves, my own choices. These last few years have broken many things in my life. 

Port-Au-Prince

Port au Prince

I realized that unless I admit to myself daily that I am like that cathedral, I will never be rebuilt. 

I am broken. I can't fix me.

and then I find this.

And this:

“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.” Hemingway.

So the week has been hard. But I'm not out for the count. I'm in pain because I'm being rebuilt. One brick at a time. The work is hard, but the goal is worth fighting for. Keep praying for me. I need it. It's working.

So, my apologies for a post all about me. I promise to post more about the school and my students in the future. After I grade their beowulf tests :-)

Love you all!

One Week In

One week into teaching! I can hardly believe it. Part of this feels so surreal, so unlikely, and so strange.  The other part of me feels like I have always done this and I will always do this.

And so I find myself mulling over what stories or highlights to pull out of the cloud of swirling memories.

I teach 3 classes a day, except for Thursday, during which I teach all four.  This Thursday was a holiday (Ascension day) so we had no classes. That meant I had all my students three times.

My classes are all interesting. I wonder how to teach them, as I have no measuring stick. I don’t know, from my own experience, how much I can make them do. The people who are telling me what I can do, I don’t know well enough to understand what they mean with that.  I am encouraged to know that this is pretty average wherever you are, and that the freedom I have to explore the curriculum is a gift I don’t need to be afraid of using. I’m planning each day as I go and some are more interesting than others. I have some yearlong structures I need to still get into place. My 12^th grade class was introduced to the library for their first self-selected reading.

Our stove was finally fixes on Wednesday, so we’ve been able to cook in our own apartment. The relief of having a stove is beyond words.  We’ve since found out it will light itself without matches, but only after we used the back-burner that was connected to the starter. Trial and Error.

---Blog post interrupted by visit from fellow teacher and his wife. She’s just flown in and she’s from Belgium! I am excited to start speaking Dutch with her soon!---

Being that it’s now ten and I am getting pretty tired, I will leave you all with a sad substitute for real news: The bullet point list

This Week:

1)   Enjoyed a wonderful birthday party on Friday night. My team won at Kube (I made the final kill shot).  I am so blessed to be working with people who came and loved on me after only knowing me for one to two weeks.

2)   The birthday cake was in Dutch. The brownies were gluten-free. The chili was hot and the crepes were not only gluten-free but also covered in Nutella.

3)   Figuring out the online homework assignment pages in Sycamore as well as figuring out what to give, as homework is daunting.

4)   The coffee maker in the staff room doesn’t work, but I have a detachable electric teakettle in my apartment.

5)   I’ve made two treks into the mountains this week.  Forget about pictures. You’re not getting any. You need to get on a plane and come here to see them yourselves.  I kept looking up and around and saying out loud, in wonder, I GET to live here. I live here. How did I end up here? It’s beautiful

6)   Bought a Lemon balm plant (Melise) and planted my Moringa seeds. My garden has begun.

7)   My French is becoming more confident.

8)   My birthday presents (from mom, but bought by me): A Kreyol bible, a map of Haiti and the lemon balm.

9)   The elementary school principal has kindly offered to meet and pray with me on Tuesdays. She offered even before I finished asking.

10)                  I am challenged and intimidated and stimulated by my kids. This teaching thing is a pretty sweet deal.

One of my fellow teachers kindly put up pictures of the picnic and our thursday excursion on her blog
http://www.elisahannay.com/elisa-in-haiti.html
Check it out!

Ayitian Market

Before I launch into an update, let me link you to the apartment video that was missing from last week's post.
Apartment Link

I apologize for it's length, but it took me three tries and 50 minutes each try to get it up so I will leave it as is for now.

And now, the update:
Wow. This place is amazing. I'm sporting a full arm bruise from the volleyball game last night. The staff put on a volleyball game, and it was very fun. I only was on the winning team once, but hey! I took a few dives and I got a good workout so that's a win! The last week was spent in decorating my room, staff updates, information overload and a lot of learning. One of the things I am learning is that I do have many Eyore traits in me and I tend to write or speak about situations in a way that conveys more of the struggle than the triumphs. This week was somewhat hilarious because, since I've never been more excited or content or, well, competent feeling, my over compensation engines kicked into overdrive. I was pummeled with all sorts of strange inferiority complexes. Some so weird, I had to laugh out loud at them, but other were revived, unhealed wounds that I recognize as no longer being a truth I believe but still... I learned that it's not enough to grow out of some things, but you have to make sure the doors are closed to them at all times. Cryptic, yes? But some of those struggles are not helped by sharing, so I'm only (hah) asking for prayer.
Today I went to the outdoor market up the street. I rode a taptap, haggled a little and depended on my two guides very much.  I forgot to ask them if I could put their names up here, so I'll only describe them for you. They're both second generation haitian american citizens, who've chosen to make haiti their home. He runs a bee keeping business (and I've already got the first jar on my shelf. raw organic honey for roughly the same price as in Walmart. not bad) and she teaches 4th grade at QCS. They were incredibly generous in taking me with them on their bi-weekly shopping trip. Not only did it cut my eating costs substantially, it also meant I could buy fresh, organic produce so I could stabilize my diet!
I want to do the market justice, so I won't post about anything else.
Taptap's cost 10 gourdes (depending) and at 43 gourdes to a dollar, that's not bad.  They're essentially pick-up trucks with two benches in the back. there's a driver and a loader. the loader stands at the back and shouts to let people know they're loading. Taptap's have fixed routes, so on Delmas, if they're pointed up, they're going up and vice versa. They pack as many people in as they can and when you want to get off, you tap the drivers screen or call out 'Merci' if you're at the end, the message is conveyed for you.  it's about a 5 minute drive with no traffic and we walked another 5 minutes until we ducked into a wooden doorway. That lead to a steep hill, although I never saw much of the hill because it was crowded with people, wheelbarrows, merchandise, chickens and who knows what else. My guides were trying to find the entrance to the market as it had changed since their last visit. She had at first grabbed my hand an apologized for it, but after taking one look at the crowd, I grabbed hers and told here to 'lead on!'. The entrance to the market turned out to be three steps leading into what looked like a shanty town. There were rickety wooden stalls built up about two stories over our head and they were covered by tarps held up by ropes. There were all sorts of stalls but mainly produce. Flies were buzzing everywhere and people were packed in. It was not for the claustrophobic. The market sprawls out beyond the wooden structures into at least three concrete, steel covered bays and down into the streets beyond. You could hear the butcher section throughout the market. the rhythmic chopping sound was made as they chop through chicken or goat, bone and all, by pounding on it with a machete. My guides had a regular stall, but we couldn't find it, so we began to shop where we could. As soon as I had made my first purchase (get this, they work in haitian dollars, which is 5 gourdes, but the money is all in gourdes. So I'm converting U.S. dollars to gourdes to haitian dollars to even get an idea if what I'm paying is worth it or if I can afford it. All this in Kreyol which is close enough to French, but still a bit of a learning experience) the regular market lady shows up out of nowhere and gives my guides a bit of a hard time. They laughingly explain that they've been looking for her and that they haven't made any significant purchase anywhere else. We bought most of the produce at her stall and I got some fruit.
It took us about an hour, and I spent about 500 gourdes for everything. That's roughly 12 dollars for a week or more's worth of produce.  A success, by all means!
The ride back was made special by the lady's live chicken peering at me from her shopping basket. I feel adventurous enough to plan on a live chicken purchase one of these days.

I'm late for dinner so I will post this as is with all the run on sentences and grammar mistakes. I hope you'll forgive me!

Bon Swa!

I have finally made some documentary efforts on your behalf.  Below is an overview of the campus. The peace and quiet in these pictures are temporary, I'm sure, and a direct contrast to the streets outside. Today I attended two churches and a teacher meeting, skyped with a dear friend in Belgium, and tried hanging curtains for the second time. We lost power three times but it didn't stop any of the events.

It took me 40 minutes to load the movie and I'm not even sure it did load. Tomorrow we begin orientation for real. I have a schedule, and a classroom. I'll show you those later on. 

I also made my first solo walk outside of the gates... I know I will get in trouble for telling this story, but I must be allowed a little pride in the matter :-) After church we went to Epi d'Ore, a sandwich shop up the street, and three of us decided to check out the grocery store for things like dish soap. Well, halfway through shopping, I felt a little nauseous. Without a doubt it was the amount of rice I had been eating, but there was no un-eating it. I handed my bags to a friend and told her I was going to head home before it got worse.  It was a nice walk. Being outside cleared my head, and I felt oddly as if I was walking down the streets of New York. The sudden pockets of bad smells reminded me of the wifs of subway smoke you would get in NY, and so did the panhandlers. I only got called Blan once, and a bunch of boys called after me 'mon cheri, I luv jouuu' but since they stayed seating, I wasn't too worried. In all, it was a nice walk I look forward to doing again if I need groceries.

The Tour

The school is wrapped around the soccer field. My apartment, the chapel, office and snack shop are on the north side. The elementary school and second gate are on the west side. The library, workroom, high school and basketball court are on the south side. The East side is a wall running along 75 Delmas. 

A tour of my apartment

The library and faculty workroom

standing with library to my right, looking at the football field, with picknick area beyond

left is football field fence, right is high school parking lot and library

spinning around, so the library is at my back, the other entrance

elementary entrance

elementary side shot, with back to the football field

Quesqueya Chapel, my apartment is on the other side.

The view of the street from the high school girls' bathroom

same view, with the bars, in case anyone was worried.

The Flipside

I' ve used that phrase so many times, it's nice to actually be ON the flip side.

I feel rested and all caught up on sleep after a busy day yesterday. I'm sure you've all heard it before but nothing can really prepare you for cultural immersion. 

I am here.  And it both looks like what I was expecting and nothing like it. 

Last night I felt more overwhelmed by my own insignificance than by anything else. But I had expected (although dreaded) that. I'm not one to easily admit I don't know things.  And I don't know many,many things.  

But God is sovereign, and He is good. two things that comforted me last night. I think we all want to be special, needed and be able to bring meaning to others lives. I don't think I am struggling with anything unusual. But, like everything worth doing, it takes time. 

The weather here is beautiful. Breezy and warm.

My reading assignments for the week

There will be a longer post probably tonight, when I can upload pictures. 

Love you all. Thank you for your prayers. 

My view: lunch area

Two More Days

I fly to Port-au-Prince Thursday morning.
My bags are packed.
My possessions are stored or given away.
I'm leaving.

I don't know how to write this blogpost. I don't know what I should feel.  I don't know which of the feelings I am feeling are worth pinning down onto this public paper. In these last few days before transitioning, I want to make every word count. I want to be useful in my sharing. And I also want to gush and vent and any other action verb related to pouring out what I'm feeling.

Instead, I will stick to facts. Cold, hard facts, holding up my human fabric like pushpins on a cork board.

Facts:

I will not have my cell number in Haiti. Wednesday is the last day that number will reach me.

Housing:

I will be living in a two story house 3 minutes walk from the school.  Under it's roof I will pick up the dusty habits of living with roommates, six of them. (and the people said: 'oi Vey')The house itself sounds like a typical answer to prayer. Very specific prayer items clearly answered (new tiles) but whole vistas of assumed realities turned on their heads or distorted in a way that makes it hard to relate it to what I was expecting.

The house has 2 kitchens, 2 living rooms, 4 bathrooms (I know, insert sigh of relief here) 6 bedrooms (repeat previous sigh) a large balcony and stairs to the roof. 

I was expecting a housemate or maybe two, but in no way did it ocure to me that I could be living with 5 other girls. And yet, some of my happiest memories are when I am surrounded by the quiet (or not so quiet) hum of other people living their lives through mine. I'm both excited (This is the girl who looked into both communal living on a farm in florid and a monastery in New York) and filled with trepidation (many people mean many needs. Will I be able to establish a pattern that will help my own needs?)

Praise:  

I love community. I thrive on community. I like people. I'm kinda like a dog that way. ( my friends came home and it was AWESOME)

Prayer:

I can get overstimulated. I can forget to eat because there are distractions going on. I might not have my own space. I'm kinda like a cat that way.

Goodbyes:

My church sent me off this sunday. They prayed over me.  They also completely surprised and blessed me with an unexpected gift. Let me just say that the amount they gave me left me speechless for a good thirty seconds and dazed for hours.  A little background on this: I had made the decision, in consultation with God, that I would not ask my church for money at any point, but if they asked me, I would have a number ready for them and the reasons for this number (essentially the numbers on the support tab). Essentially, because I am being given a partial salary that will provide for my basic needs, it didn't seem right to ask for anything that would allow me to feel comfortable. But I also wanted to be careful that I wasn't putting my words into God's mouth. I wanted to be open to whatever God has for me and some of you will understand when I say thatWhat mattered to me was that my church would commit to pray for me while I was gone and they had already agreed to do this. They were under no further commitment to me. They gave because they wanted to and I was able to accept this gift as a gift. My usual guilty feelings about fundraising and missionaries asking for money had been left voiceless.  The elders had asked the church members to think about what they would like to give, and they gave. It's humbling, but the kind of humbling that gives me strength rather than the opposite.  I am realizing God means it when he says 'Don't worry about tomorrow or what it will bring.' plan, yes. Work towards it, yes. But worrying is verboten. Worrying is.. not allowed.  Obviously I will worry, but the audacious truth is starting to dawn on me that I have to practice not worrying. That means, I have to actively let go.. I get to let go. 

Praise:

Obviously... God's provision!

Prayer: 

I really want to continue to actively Not Worry. Actually, that's Listen for God's direction and Not Worry.

Flight:

I'm flying with MIF from Fort Pierce, thursday morning. Check-in is at 6 A.M. and I arrive somewhere between 11 and 1 in PaP. I'll be picked up from the airport by a staff member from the school. As soon as I have internet access after a post will go up to let you all know I made it safe.

There are more things I'd like to ramble on about, but I'm already wordier than I had thought.

Final notes:

Love the brotherhood,  fear God, honour the king.

Prayer- What is it good for?

That's a serious question. I'm sitting at the computer, creating birthday cards, and the blinking light on my phone alerts me that I have once again forgotten to switch from silent mode to regular phone mode. And that I have a message. It's a message from the cruise line I'm taking my little sister on in a week, and I immediately am stricken by panic.  I have so many ambivalent feelings about this cruise. What if it makes me look superficial? What if it makes people feel I'm not taking their money seriously? What if I get hurt, or sick, or randomly die? Some of those are valid questions, but I don't know how to handle them very well.  Usually I 'do something' to keep the fear away. But not this time. This is my Christmas/Birthday/Promise fullfilment present to my little sister and my last chance to spend two days alone with her. This is, to put it mildly 'a big deal' and I won't allow my neurotic people pleasing side OR my independent, serious, save the whales side destroy the fun I aim to have with her. Yet one phone call and my insides feel as if someone sharped them (That's a new word Parker came up with earlier today. He jabbed himself with the sharp end of a toy jet plane and proclaimed that he had just sharped himself. I like it. It's got the benefit of being very distinctivly descriptive)  I'm tasting steel in my mouth, and my head hurts. I take a deep breath, and embrace those feelings. once I do, I can see them stretch their silver tendrils out in a web across my very existence. 'what if I get ripped off?' merges with 'What if Haiti is a big mistake?' and 'what if I die alone'.  Big...scary... and irrelevant. Once I could see what I was afraid of, I was able to separate out what was the immediate problem from what were tomorrows issues and what were simply part of the pain of existence.
And then, I prayed. Only after knowing what was going on, could I do any real praying. Once I prayed, I felt relief, and  a calm. Maybe facing an eternal being puts a cruise in perspective.

A timely reminder, as QCS (the school I'm teaching at) has just sent me the list of students per grade. They asked me to pray for them. At first I panicked, thinking - I don't want to spend my evenings and spare moments staring blankly at a card and reciting a litany of 'keep them from harm. make them learn, keep them from drugs'. Now, I'm rethinking praying for them.

Basic information

Hello all!

Since I did not give a full description of  what I’ll be doing, where I’ll be doing it and with whom, I feel compeled to cut and paste the following from the Quisqueya Haiti handbook. Obviously I don’t own any of the following material. I’ve also added mailing and actual address to the side of the blog, just in case you wanted to know how to get hold of me. Please remember that there’s a retrieval fee for any package (not letters) you send.

Introduction to Quisqueya Christian School

Quisqueya (kiss-kay'-uh) Christian School (QCS) was founded in 1974 by a group of

missionary parents who wanted Christian schooling for their children. The school began

that fall with 35 students. For the first two years, an orphanage graciously allowed QCS to share the facility, a three-acre campus located between the capital city of Port-au-Prince and the residential suburb of Petionville. When the owner of the property decided to sell, the orphanage declined the offer, and QCS bought the property in 1976.

Approximately 300 students are enrolled in Pre-Kindergarten through Grade Twelve.

One of Quisqueya's primary goals is to serve missionaries by providing schooling for

their children, and the broader goal is to provide a school for the English speaking

Christian population of Port-au-Prince. The mission of QCS is “To provide the best

possible US accredited education where students learn to understand, interpret and

analyze the world from a Christian view. Quisqueya Christian school offers a biblically

integrated program based on and correlating with the American system of education.”

Brief History of Haiti

When Columbus landed on Haiti in 1492, he named it Hispaniola, or "Little Spain." At that time it was inhabited by the Taino, a group of Arawak speaking people. The Taino were killed by the thousands by disease when Spanish armies came in search of gold. Between smallpox and slavery, almost all traces of native inhabitants have been obliterated, though the following Arawak words were incorporated into English: barbeque, canoe, tobacco, potato, and hurricane. The French and the Spanish fought for control of the new world and settled their dispute by dividing the island. The French took the western part, Haiti, and the Spanish took the eastern part, which is now the Dominican Republic. The French planters lived like royalty on their large plantations. In fact, Cap Haïtien, a city on the northern coast, was called "the Paris of the New World." The planters brought slaves from Africa to work for them and forced the Indians into slavery. Many were slaughtered mercilessly and others died of a broken heart. During this time, social classes began to develop. The Grandes Blancs, very wealthy white planters, were the leaders both socially and politically. The Petites Blancs were the poor white tradesmen. The Affranchits were the children of the Grandes Blancs and the slaves, many of whom were free and well educated in France. The slaves were the lowest class who worked hard and were treated harshly. Unrest developed. The Affranchits sought freedom but were denied, and the slaves, who greatly outnumbered the Europeans, became very unhappy with their condition. Within these two groups there arose intelligent, brave leaders who led the great mass of slaves in a revolt against the French. The stories of their battles and tactics are unequaled. Among Haiti's national heroes of this time are Jean-Jacques Dessalines, Alexandre Pétion, Toussaint L'Ouverture, Henri Christophe, Jean-Pierre Boyer, and André Rigaud.In an incredible struggle for independence, the slaves liberated themselves, and Napoleon's armies were ousted. On January 1, 1804, after nearly two hundred years of French rule, Haiti became the first free black republic in the world and the second oldest republic in the Western Hemisphere. Since acquiring her independence, Haiti has experienced a tumultuous political history. Two of the most well-known recent governments were that of the Duvalier family regime which ruled from 1957 to 1986, and that of Jean-Bertrand Aristide. Aristide was elected president in December 1991, deposed in 1992, restored in 1994, and completed his term in 1996. René Préval served one term as President before Aristide was reelected in 2000. René Préval was sworn into office on the 14th of May 2006 as the 55th President of Haiti, and he is the current president. On January 12, 2010, a massive earthquake destroyed much of down town Port-au-Prince, as well as areas to the west. Some experts believe as many as 300,000 died with as many as 1.5 million people living in tents, under tarps, and in temporary shelters. The Inter-American Developmental Bank rates this earthquake as the worst disaster in modern history. This exacerbates existing problems of poverty, malnutrition, lack of education, unemployment, erosion of the natural resources, superstition, and weak government. QCS remains confident that, in spite of difficult circumstances, God is building his church and the gates of hell will not prevail against it.

Location and Geography

Haiti occupies the western third (10,714 square miles) of the island of Hispaniola, the second largest of the Caribbean Islands. The Dominican Republic is located on the eastern two-thirds. Haiti, which means "high land" in the original Indian language, is well named, with mountains that rise to 9,000 feet above sea level. Haiti is blessed with many beautiful flowers, palms and plants. However, Haiti's supply of timber, including mahogany, pine and logwood, is rapidly diminishing.

Climate

Haiti has one of the most pleasant climates in the Caribbean. Temperatures are high in the coastal areas, with never-ending summer weather ranging from 75° to 95°. The temperature is cooler in higher elevations. An autumn-like 50°-75° prevails in the high country where berries, peaches, and strawberries grow, and the climate has been compared to that of San Francisco. Rain seldom lasts more than an hour or two in the evening during the rainy season. Port-au-Prince has two rainy seasons - April through June and August through November. The driest months are December through March. Haiti lies in the Caribbean hurricane belt, but most hurricanes pass to the north or south of the island. Port-au-Prince is protected by the bay and by a ring of mountains that protect the city from storms. Thunderstorms are common during the rainy seasons.

People

The Haitians are a proud, gracious, resourceful, courageous, and friendly people. Blacks constitute 95% of the population, mulattos and whites make up 5%. The foreign community is concentrated in the capital and is comprised primarily of American, Canadian, French, Dutch, German, Syrian, and Lebanese. The population is over 9 million people.

Language

The official languages of Haiti are French and Creole. French is spoken by about 10% of the people, while the rest speak Creole or a blend of the two. With the influence of American popular culture and business opportunities in trading with the United States, English has become increasingly important in Haiti, and English speakers are regularly encountered, especially in the capital. Many hotels, airline offices, restaurants, and shops have English-speaking personnel.

Religion

The official and predominant religion of Haiti is Roman Catholicism. The early slaves brought their African religions with them, but as soon as they arrived in Haiti, the French priests baptized and "Christianized" them. The French permitted them to hold their Saturday night African voodoo worship ceremonies and then forced them to attend mass on Sunday. As a result, most Haitian peasants seem to regard Catholicism and voodoo as inseparable and usually consider themselves to be members of both religions. Approximately 16% of the population identifies itself as Protestant, and there are numerous Protestant missions working in Haiti. Many of the missions are involved not only in church planting and discipleship, but also in education and development work as well. Though Haiti is officially a Roman Catholic country, there is total freedom of worship for all people. This gives evangelical missions an opportunity to witness and establish churches and schools. The people are eager to hear the gospel, but because of their background in voodoo mixed with Catholicism, there are many difficulties facing Haitians who become Christians. Voodoo is a combination of mysterious rituals, symbols, music and dances. The voodooist believes in one supreme god, but contacts his god through the "loas," powerful, but secondary gods. He also believes there are spirits everywhere and he must constantly please them through gifts and sacrifices. The peasant lives in fear of offending one of these spirits and spends his life appeasing one god after another, often sacrificing all he has. The "houngan" and "mambo" (priests) are considered very powerful because they can cause curses or blessings to fall upon a person.

The Final Countdown

First, click on this link so it can play while you read the rest of the post. If it ends before you get to the end, take a shot.

The final countdown
As I typed in the title to this blog, the outer waves of this realisation began to hit me: In three weeks, every single aspect of my life will look different.
The wonderful reality of moving hit me when I booked my plane ticket. I'm flying a DC 3 into Port Au Prince on the 25th of July.  That’ll be a new experience. I’ve a vague memory of flying in a Cesna over Ecuador, but that’s pretty much it.
I’m going to spend the last three weeks doing the following.

1)    Pack: I am trying to compromise between moving intact, memories and all, and moving quick and easy. Dilemnas that I have been facing are seemingly trite, such as “do I take the teacups or more spices?”, “take a pair of fancy heals or hiking boots?”  and then of course, what books do I take or leave? That once is easy because I’m always paring down my library and hard, because, well, I’m always paring down my library. I thought I had no despensible books left. At this point, I’m not just trimming the fat, but cutting into muscle.

2)    Watch ‘the Lone Ranger’. No spoilers please.

3)    Work on curriculum. I’m trying to have a decent map set out so I can begin planning classes. 

4)    Maybe,  just maybe, work on my thesis. Like that’s going to happen.

5)    Enjoy my family.  Happy 4^th, by the way.  It’s kind of a side note to getting to spend almost a week with my ENTIRE family. This won’t happen again for a while.  I wonder at how different life turns out than what you expect. Our family of four kids, one brother-in-law, two nephews and a friend, total: 10.  My best friend from back home is having a similar reunion with her family. Six kids, all married, most of them with multiple kids.  I’ve lost count of how many people comprise that little tribe. 

6)    Face some fears. Like, I’m still single. Huge fear. Logicaly, that should be more of a want unmet or something, but for me it’s fear. Being single means I don’t have someone watching out for me in a foreign country, no family surrounding me. Like I said Fear-definitly irrational, therefore, harder to erradicate. But all our fears are deeply irrational, because they are in some sense always coming true. Everyone’s alone, in some way. Another fear: working a full week.  I am sure I can be capable of it but I havn’t done it in while. What if I can’t?

There are more items to the list, but Matt’s got the barbeque started and I have three books on Chaucer staring me in the face. If I get through one book today, I will crown myself emperor of efficiency. Oh, and two devilishly handsome boys grinning up at me from under the table.

And so it begins...

As you see, I’ve done the inevitable and started a blog for my Haiti experience.
I’ve enjoyed reading those blogs of people who have gone before me, as they gave me a good insight into ‘real’ life in Haiti, and I hope to be able to be as faithful in updating as they were.  Maybe there’s someone out there who needs to read what I’ve got to say just as I needed to read what they wrote.
I also was asked by a friend whether my newsletters were going to continue to be, well,  edited and this rankled with me. The last thing in the world I want to do is edit myself to appeal to a larger audience. And yet,  that was what I was doing. I was making myself sound ‘sellable’, ‘relatable’ and other junk.  I want to chase other buzzwords, no matter how hackneyed. ‘authentic’, ‘honest’, maybe even ‘couragous’. How many newsletters have I grown up reading that seemed to me no more than a brief business report? Too many. Little heart and no soul.
I am more comfortable writing things in a blog, and the chances of me uploading pictures is greater, if I have a blog, and well, I have more space to ramble. That’s always a good thing. Right?

Anyways, there is still a ‘Support’ link above, so that if you felt so inclined, you could.  The third tab is a link to my own poetic work or works of people I admire.  Que aproveche!