Night

By sundown we had over 50 children gathered under the almond trees. And the singing began. A chant with no name, “I said a boom chica boom!” response “I said a boom chica boom”. When English is your second language this song took on many translations. “Acera boom chica boom” and it wasn’t till we all tried singing it together that the debate began…What were those kids singing? We were completely clueless as to what was going on. A woman arrived with a humongous pot of spaghetti transported in a wheelbarrow. There was a pitcher of lemonade and 2 large industrial cans of vanilla and chocolate pudding. This was dinner. The singing strengthened while the plates of food were being served. It was a wonderful scene until it began….”I didn’t get any food”, neither did I, I didn’t get any….Yes you did, you were sitting right there. No, I didn’t get any food. Yes I gave you food. Those who persisted got more while some truly may not have gotten any. We couldn’t tell after a while. This behavior applied to any level of distribution of any value; from supper to a piece of gum. Sadly, at such a young age, these kids knew all too well, that everything is about survival. You have to get as much as you can until there is nothing else to get. Thus the new rule; No one gets served until everyone is seated and no one leaves their seat until everyone is done with their meal. The children leave for the night and we get ready for our first night in the Gressier.
We trimmed our supplies down right before our departure. There were things that simply weighed too much. Denim, specialty items, and air mattresses. We took them all out and sent them with another team of volunteers who could accommodate the weight. I would have given my left foot for an air mattress then. We made due. There were some sharp objects like rocks and broken glass underneath the floor of the tent that made it hard to get comfortable. There was the baying of a nearby goat, a barking dog just randomly running though our camp, the croaking of frogs and sometimes footsteps or a cell phone ringing. We had a running joke that whatever animal we heard the night before became dinner the next day. Our theory proved to be true for the most part. If there was a sound to be heard, I believe I heard it. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t rest my mind. I was truly afraid. I had heard of and read many stories. Stories of women getting raped. Stories of gangs cutting through tents and robbing each other. I was waiting for the moment where I would have to defend myself from some perpetrator. There was a gate right beyond the yellow plastic wall. It was “secured” with a piece of wire.
Next to the gate was the row of stone latrines. The smell of raw sewage would flow through like an invisible green fume, a handkerchief flowing in the wind. It was sickening and menacing. There was no ceiling on the toilets or the showers so the smell was free of charge all day and all night. Through the watches of the night I would think…surely its morning…but it was still dark. I must have done this 5 or 6 times. I learned in the morning that most of us did. The days and nights are long in Haiti. Long when you don’t have a cool shelter to relax in by day and a comfortable bed to sleep in at night.