Speaking on Our Thoughts...

Breakfast at Gradec

i'm sitting down after a dinner of pasta, potatoes, and plantain, a tasty trifecta that both represented both the starch-based local diet and salvation, the latter because--after being gone all day in the streets of Port Au Prince's neighborhoods--i was beyond famished. i fought the urge to woof down the delicious plate of food that awaited the men upon our return home, choosing to pace myself, laugh, talk, and stay lively. i think part of my perkiness served the purpose of preventing myself from practicing an almost platitudinous pestilence that besets my people.

Itis.

yep, pronounced (eye-tis).

if you don't know, ask your closest African-American friend. :-)

either way, i was able to avoid it, not by eating less or more slowly (i still cleaned the plate, but since we were all hungry, we all ate pretty quickly), but by, quite simply, blogging. the rapid movement of my fingers, and the mental pathways their blurring dance opened up, was enough to rescue me from the jaws of unconsciousness. it was, after all, a full day, and to give anyone any part of the perspective gained today, it would behoove me to "get to crackin'."

Water, Wrecks, and Real Estate

this morning, i was awakened by an intense desire to pee, and i still haven't figured out how to say express it, in either French or Creole. it was before dawn, and there were people sleeping in the front half of the tent, separate from the compartment where dwayne and i are posted up. there was an area somewhere outside, but i hadn't come to be sure of where it was, and i didn't want to disturb anyone. but you gotta understand, i REALLY had to pee. this was oddly familiar. then it hit me--the moment before i wet my shorts. what did i do on the roof that first night when the storms were raging and i couldn't even step outside the tent.

where's that bottle?

locating the largely empty bottle of water that was both cause and Christ of my current crisis, i quietly moved toward the opening in the tarp-constructed tent. i didn't want to go too far, because the ground is half dirt, half boulder, and almost all hill. it would be just my luck to slip and fall, wake up the entire sleeping mass, and end up cut, scarred, and jarred at the bottom corner of a cinder-block wall--with soaking wet cargo pants.

not the kid.

the bottle was half full, so i made a trade off. i guzzled the rest of the water on my way out, and found a not-too-dark corner, on even ground, and relieved myself gratefully. whew.

sneaking back into bed, i got another hour or so of sleep before everyone woke up and started preparing for the day. Dwayne had already been to the bathroom (which was two blue tarps wrapped around two sapling trees in the bottom corner of the yard) and it was soon my turn. Pastor Wilson showed me the area: they had some cinder blocks arranged in a square, on their sides, so they formed an area about 4 ft by 4 ft. on top of the blocks was a pickle bucket full of water, with a smaller bowl floating in it, a bar of soap, a new toothbrush, and a tube of toothpaste framing the right side of its circular frame. i grabbed my face rag and towel, and got to rocking.

we watched the children eat a breakfast of scrambled eggs with ketchup and a slice of onion, all seated at a makeshift circle. i snapped a picture and video before we went back into the tent where they feed Dwayne and me. we stopped objecting to any special treatment. everyone here is so, so hospitable and kind. they even found a way to boil some water so that i could have some instant coffee (no starbucks in this 'hood). you'd have thought we were building them a 20-story state-of-the-art complex, instead of providing some extra cover for them and the neighbors, scouting some land for a future facility, and just dreaming the vision out loud.

we needed water, so Dwayne and i accompanied Wilson and Yonell to the van, where we drove the steep and rocky hills in search of the water-refilling station in town, some more bottled drinking water, and some meetings with people who owned property in the hills they were willing to part with. by now, Dwayne has a vision that i'm with 100%: if Gradec is surviving in large part to a regular donation given by New Olivet Baptist Church of Memphis, TN that pales in comparison to what really large mission groups spend on phone calls in a day, what would happen if we really launched an effort to grow this seed here. we could actually build a brand new orphanage. not just that though, but a school, a retail facility, and a place for the community and the kids to come and see performances and have activities. yeah, a theater...

so we had these conversations as we bounced and rolled along cheerfully. we ended up meeting with more than a few people who were supposedly lot owners. some were serious. some were not. but there was enough of an effort today to visit locations to get us all fired up with possibilities. it really doesn't take that much to make a difference, especially here.

on the way to get the water, a truck was holding up traffic changing a blown tire. when they directed our vehicle around, the side caught a piece of the front mirror. we didn't think it was a problem. the way driving happens here, cars bump each other all the time and no one even winces (i had to get used to that, coming from a society where you might get shot over stepping on the wrong person's tennis shoes). we were halfway down the block when we heard a loud banging on the side of our van. the cats driving the truck and another man were livid and demanding money. oh man. i couldn't understand a word they were saying, but i'm from South Nashville.

i figured it out.

they were hot and wanted cash, even though it was a company security truck they were driving. through translation, we learned that much. through observation, we figured they wanted to pocket the cash. we admonished them to provide a telephone number and information, and we would make sure the repairs were made. Dwayne hopped out and took photos of the truck, and i video taped some of the loudest cats (although they became more reserved when they saw themselves being taped). people in the crowd were all agreeing that it was their fault, but we were intent on remaining calm and staying safe. eventually, we made it out.

we walked through what seemed like an endless tent city, and were told that there are many of them like this one. true, we lost count of the ones we saw on various hills and in sundry valleys. we located the water place, filled up and paid for five 5-gallon jugs, and stopped by the gas station. not only was gas about $8.00 a gallon (in U.S. dollars), but the attendants aren't there to pump gas. they're there to protect it, so they carry pistol-gripped 12-guage shotguns. haven't seen that before, for sure.

when we arrived home, the kids mobbed us as usual. dinner was waiting on us, and well, you know about that part. the diesel fuel just arrived for the generator they were kind enough to rig for us, somehow intrinsically knowing that it's tough without the internet for Westerners. beyond hospitable, i promise. in the darkness, my silly butt got to playing with the flashlight, trying to tell horror stories in a language they did not speak. i mimed a lot and managed to deliver a frightening "Boo" punchline, though. and then aimed the flashlight at the wall, where Dwayne and i started a shadow puppet show that drew the kids in endlessly. fun.

night has indeed fallen, and finally the church 3 doors down has ended the preaching and singing. now, i love church, and i knew many of the hymns they sang earlier (although in French), but you have to understand, they had a loudspeaker, with a worship leader and preacher who got started at about 9 a.m. and just ended less than 30 mins ago. the pastor was preaching when we left this morning, and was still going this afternoon. i joked with Dwayne that they must be Baptists. but then when it continued through dinner, we agreed: Pentecostal.

laugh ya'll. i've been to every kind of church and i know The Lord doesn't mind some humor, especially when it's from some people who are trying to do His work in some small way. thanks for all the prayers. some of you even made a contribution. i saw that and had to smile. there is a difference being made here in a tangible way.

let me say this before i get off the computer and pray my wife will be around on an IM program so i can "see" my family before i sleep: i have seen miracles in my life. i saw it with the theater i helped build; i saw it with the growth of its program; i've seen people stretch themselves above and beyond the boundaries of what they believed they could do. here, in this place, i've seen children with bowed legs and disabilities playing fierce soccer in a space not big enough to fit a car in; i've witnessed women who make nothing-per-hour wash and clean children in groups with rags and water and have those kids be more pristine and groomed and respectful than many kids i've encountered throughout my life; i've seen happiness--no, joy--that comes from a well of spirit that cannot be broken by circumstances that would make most of us wince in pain, discomfort, and disgust.

i believe in the power of individuals. i'm recharged like never before. and for those of you who do know me personally, you know i'm going to come back to Nashville with renewed purpose, free from the making and acceptance of excuses, and ready to do some even bigger, better, global things. keep that in your mind's eye. and let's make some things happen BIG time.

well, i've got to go. need to give up some generator time. Mrs. Wilson just came in with a small plastic wastebasket. she speaks zero english, but has an angelic demeanor and a wonderful smile. walking by towards my area, she catches my eye as i look up from typing, and taps the edge of the basket repeatedly, pointing inside. she utters one giggly word that both shames and amuses me, more the latter, of course.

"Pee."