Because I put people either on UN flights or Helicopter flights from a German NGO, I’ve been thinking myself how I’d travel to Santo Domingo (helicopter or plane). If someone chose for me, I would adjust to whatever. But, having to choose... I’m unsure. I have to admit that flying on the helicopter seems a little more scary for me than going on a little airplane, but it would be nice to fly out in a helicopter because only God knows when I’ll get another chance.
Yesterday was a national holiday here in Haiti, Flag day. The school was closed, our cooking ladies didn’t come and well, other than that, it felt like a normal day to us. I just didn’t work as much. It’s been reported that two people from an NGO were kidnapped last week and one of them, the Haitian, was found dead recently. I just randomly opened a JOTC forward I get daily and to my surprise it contained information about shootings and gunfire and I was surprised to read about the murder of over 5 people this week (all Haitian) as well as some raping. Sometimes I feel like this whole security thing is just a joke- that I am in more danger even in Costa Rica… other times, like when I read that e-mail, I don’t.
We were warned yesterday by various sources (people, on e-mails, etc) that demonstrations MIGHT turn dangerous. Haven’t heard of anything so far.
I wish I could have seen the party/celebration part of yesterday. I wish I could be invisible to really see how Haitians celebrate the holidays.
In the afternoon, after we took a staff to the UN base to take a flight to Santo Domingo, I suggested to the other three who were in the car with me (Jean Jaques, one of our translators, Carolina, another Costa Rican who arrived two weeks ago, and Ele, a Panamanian working in finance) that we stop at that little tent camp near our village, the one that I went last time with Maribel- the one next to the rising “river”. I also wanted to give the clothes I brought with me because I didn’t get a chance to take them to Obama camp last time.
Nothing was going on and we went for about thirty minutes. I wish I could have stayed longer but it was during work hours and I couldn’t take too much advantage of the the time with the car. A group of boys, ages from aprox. six all the way to nineteen, were in the water- many playing, some jumping from the little hill, many just jumping in the water- all full of energy. They were all speaking to me in creole, joking around. Jean Jaques translated and one said he’d like to marry me. He was eighteen.
We walked a little further and talked to two women who were washing clothes with the water (basically washing clothes with water that might be dirtier than the clothes). They were really nice too. I told Jean Jaques to tell them that we would like to give them clothes. They pointed us to their daughters, a 6-year-old and a 12-year-old and we took them with us to the car. We gave them each a bag of clothes. I also gave a boy a bag of clothes and shoes that Line, the journalist, left for me to give to someone.
Of course we had to do this as discreetly and quickly as possible- giving people things in tent camps is known to be a little bit dangerous, especially if it’s food.
The 18-year-old who said he wanted to marry me came and I could tell he wanted something so I ripped a bag opened and pulled out some shirts that if I am not mistaken, my friend Arturo gave me. I wish I could have photographed the expression of his face (at this point my camera was hidden, I didn’t want to have it out in display so much during this moment). He looked as if he had just received a brand new and expensive shirt that he had chosen in a nice store. It was just a shirt that someone gave to me because it was just sitting in his closet, and to this teenage boy, it might just have changed his life.
God love you dear! Please be careful! Love the photo of the boy with the water on his face. What a smile!
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