Haiti, pt. 3: Ki jan ou rele?

There are few things as beautiful as when a little one remembers your name. And comes running.

It is such a surprise that they remember, such a sweet acknowledgement that you have connected with them.

Upon arriving in Haiti, there were children that called out “Luke!” and “Alex!” and “Diana!” I knew they were remembered because they’ve been there before, or because they lived at the orphanage. But I must admit I was jealous. I wanted to walk up to a group of kids and have just one of them remember that I had thrown them in the air the day before, or spun them around, or carried them on my shoulders. Gloriously, this happened with three children while I was in Haiti.

Waldo – He caught my eye because he was wearing a Gators jersey. He was also the only child to list his full name when asked: Waldo Douswali. He loved to be picked up but he didn’t like the insanity of throws, spins and falls like the other boys. Waldo was content with just having his hand held or sitting in your arms. He loved to do the Gator chomp and say “Go Gators!” Or at least he seemed to think it was a fun thing I taught him.

Waldo was a village kid, but he was not a fixture at the compound like other villagers. I only saw him on two days, at Vacation Bible School, then he disappeared into the wilderness of Haiti. But I will always remember him running out on to the playground, amidst a field of wild banshees, headed right at me and saying “Aiiiii Geeee!”

And I picked him up and hugged him.

Gimsley – With goofy teeth too big for his head and an insatiable appetite for spins, Gimsley was quite a character. He is one of the orphans that lives within the walls of the compound, loved and cared for on a daily basis. His smile showed so much more contentment and safety than many of the other kids we saw that week. It is clear that Gimsley’s heart has been softened while at the orphanage.

Unfortunately, he has an iron-tight stomach and demanded to be spun around at all times. Over the course of a week, he singlehandedly made me more nauseous than all the burning garbage on the plains and the sewage flowing in the rivers. When not being twirled about, he demanded to be hoisted up upon my shoulders. Gimsley was a guy who liked the high life.

Walking over to the orphanage one afternoon with Luke and Katie, Gimsley came around the corner. He immediately started running at me. He exclaimed “AY JAY” and, of course, once he was right in front of me he said potem, meaning “hold me.” Soon he was back up on my shoulders as we headed to the makeshift soccer field.

I cannot wait to go back and spin him around until we both collapse.

Nadine - She came up to me one day on our first walk through the village. It was a sneak attack as she ran up behind me and slipped her little hand into mine and looked up, hopeful. This was the beginning of a strained and heartbreaking relationship.

She kept motioning to her throat and saying something in Creole. Over and over again I looked down, unable to respond because I didn’t know what she was saying. Then she patted her stomach, then she patted mine. Then she pointed to her mouth and said that word again. All I could do in response was shrug and put her up on my shoulders.

I learned later that Nadine was a village kid, she did not attend school nor was she an orphan. In fact, her parents are voodoo clergy. I also learned that she was telling me she was hungry, apparently she always says she is hungry, even when in the process of eating.

She has an odd way about her: very touchy, but not in a sweet way, odd and almost inappropriate. Touchy in a way that hints she knows what she’s doing. She can’t be more than 10. I don’t know what she has been taught or what life has shown her to create this behavior. I long for her to discover a more beautiful way.

Nadine became a representation of my hardest reality in Haiti. She was the village at large, the people untouched by the safe walls of the mission, the hopeless ones. She didn’t get the presents handed to the orphans or the snacks given to the school children at the Christmas party. We did, however, acquire a plate of popcorn and cheez puffs for her one afternoon (which she ate half and stuffed half in her pockets) and I gave her a half-liter of lemonade (which she downed in literally 5 seconds). But who will love Nadine after we leave? Who will remember about Nadine?

She remembered me, she called out my name, and it broke my heart.