Rocks Out of Water

Besides the morning mass, there were a few other Christmas day activities that took place in my community. One being painting the house! Tim and I both think it’s funny that Haitians tend to paint their houses or buildings, fè kay bel, on the actual day of the holiday. In the states we like to do it before hand, so we are able to sit back and enjoy the day, but things don’t really work that way here…and for good reasons.

The painting of the house on Christmas was amusing, but not quite as entertaining as watching businesses trying to paint in the mist of the frenzy the day Wyclef Jean paraded around Jacmel in a huge moto brigade. For those who don’t know, Wyclef, who was born in Haiti, is a hip-hop musician (who sings that song with Shakira, Hips Don’t Lie and performed it live at the world cup finals) and is probably the single most popular Haitian figure today. He came to Jacmel at the beginning of December and gave a concert on the beach, gratis, free. It was a HUGE deal here, and anyone who was anyone and could get to the beach for the concert, did. So, instead of painting the week before Wyclef arrived, or even the day before, quite a few businesses where slapping on paint as Wyclef and the crowds were flying through the streets.

Though I don’t have any pictures of the Wyclef parade, here is one of my host father painting the house on Christmas day.

Whenever people have some down time, they like to play dominoes, especially the kids who live in my lakou, immediate neighborhood. Most people had Christmas day rather free and thus it involved a lot of domino playing. Here are some kids from the neighborhood playing. As I’m writing this post, I just heard a neighbor slam down a domino and now all of the men outside are arguing. There’s nothing like a rousing game of dominoes!

After our amazing Christmas lunch, of rice & beans & chicken, Tim and I went visiting neighbors. Many were overjoyed to have Tim sit at their house, for some it was the first time they’d met him. Christmas day, and the day after Christmas, I managed to accumulate quite the assortment of tropical fruit. As always, I was amazed at the generosity of my neighbors and their insistence that I leave their house with a handful of something. Here is a photo of the goods.

Our last stop on Christmas day was the house of Tim’s language helper. Bona is a moun Meno (from Meno), but spends most of his time in Jacmel. Here’s a photo of Tim and Bona.

I couldn’t resist posting a few photos of some kids in my community. I’ve been talking the camera around lately and trying to make sure everyone gets in a photo. These are some of my little friends.

This year, when I think about Christmas day, I won’t remember the food because it really wasn’t any different than the beans and rice I ate the day before. I won’t remember the presents because I didn’t unwrap anything. And I won’t remember celebrating with family because they aren’t here, but I have to admit I missed them a lot! I won’t remember the big celebrations or the glitter and glamour, but the simple, beautiful Christmas morning mass.

I haven’t converted to Catholicism, though I love the catholic churches I have attended in Haiti and have great respect for the work the church supports and carries out. My host family lives in a predominantly Catholic community, and a good percentage of the village, if they are not washing clothes, cooking food, or engaging in other work, attend the services. Mass is a special occasion because it’s rare to have a priest in attendance, but this Christmas, as he usually does, a priest journeyed up the mountain.

The pre-service activities of welcoming the priest and praying the rosary flowed well into the 9 o’clock hour – the supposed start of the mass. You could say it started right on time, Haitian time of course. About 10 o’clock the children from the community school, all dressed in their uniforms, entered from the back door, carrying flowers and singing. Then the drums started, followed by song after song about Nwel, Christmas. There’s something inspiring, almost unexplainable, about music sung to the beat of a hand held drum. When the drum gets going, and the choir sings loud, it’s like the beat of the drum enters your body and rhythmically sways you from side to side. If you aren’t swaying, at least you are tapping your feet.

In between songs, the priest gave a pretty simple sermon, but a few of his comments have stayed with me. He emphasized that Jesus was a poor man, from a poor family, born in a stable with the animals. Haitians can relate to that because they live and work closely with animals. Most families have a few pigs, some chickens, a donkey, and a cow. Part of the daily routine is caring for them – feeding them, changing their grazing area, and making sure they are healthy. No Haitian would think about giving birth in the pigs quarters or on top of hay or grass, which is intended for the cows to eat, but Jesus, a king, was born in a stable. Haitians can visualize the manger scene and can understand what this says about Jesus’ social-economic situation. Even though I’ve glanced at hundreds of nativity scenes, beautiful displayed in remembrance of the stable birth, it’s so hard for me to fathom how poor Jesus’ family was. In fact, I hadn’t really pondered it until recently.

Last weekend all of the apprentices and Anna, our colleague who is working in the Dominican Republic, gathered together for a retreat. We had a relaxing time talking and hanging out at the beach. One of the highlights was hearing a talk that touched on the history, culture, and religion in Haiti. (From left to right: Kim, Leah, Cara, Tim, and Anna.)

The retreat ended with a bang. Our good friend and colleague, Samson, had four friends visiting from Port-au-Prince. They cooked a huge meal for all of us and made sure that we helped out. Here is Tim making the dessert.

Before eating we got a huge lesson on how to eat at a fèt, party. We all helped to serve one another as part of the learning process. It basically comes down to this. You eat everything during the first round, except for the rice, which you save for last. We had so much food that hardly any of us got to the rice.

Totally unrelated to the weekend retreat, we moved into an apartment on Monday. This is the view from our bedroom window. Not too shabby! The view is great, but the apartment can get warm and there are quite a few mosquitoes. I guess you can’t have it all.