Puppet Show
On Monday, a short term volunteer from Italy came to Kay St. Anne with me. She apparently took a clowning class in Italy. She quickly put together a simple puppet show for the children, which they loved. It was wonderful to watch them watching her. One little boy sitting in the back row jumped up and down with pure delight. This was a fun activity which took place before medical workers arrived to give all of the children vaccinations, a much less pleasant event to observe.
Kenskoft
On Wednesday I accompanied the 12 children who do not have family with whom they can be reunited, on the journey to Kenskoft. When I was at St. Louie, I heard the oldest girl who was leaving call out, the the kind gentleman who oversees Kay St. Louie, "Met, Met, Pa bliye m." (Teacher/mister, don't forget me.) My heart was touched as he assured her that she would be remembered. We stopped half way up the mountain in Pettionville, where NPH has an office; there we picked up other children, whom I did not know who were also being admitted to the orphanage in Kenskoft.
A four year old from St. Anne sat on my lap during the ride up the mountain. I remember when this little girl arrived at St. Anne last year. She seemed so small, and so scared. I held her the day she came. During her first weeks at St. Anne she cried every afternoon when I was leaving for the day. She had come to us from a previous orphanage (not NPH) who either did not want to or felt they could not care for her because of her health problems. When she arrived at St. Anne we were told that her mother had died, and her father was in the process of dying. Now this spunky four year old child who has lost both of her parents is at her third orphanage. She cried on and off during the trip as did other children. When a child cries a common reaction in this culture is for adults to tell them "silens" or "pa kriye" (silence or don't cry.) I tried to normalize their crying for the staff and explain in my imperfect kreyol that it is better that they cry than to hold the feelings in. A few words from a foreigner is not likely to have any significant immediate impact on what people have done and experienced their entire lives. Each time I heard an adult tell a child not to cry, I felt a little more like I might cry for them.
When we arrived in Kenskoft it was raining and unusually windy which people attributed to the storm that had passed us by without actually hitting us a couple of days earlier. We pulled the bus into the courtyard of the school. The children's newly assigned workers came to meet them. I made sure I said goodbye to each of the children individually, especially those from St. Anne. One toddler clung to me for a few minute, as I stood by her new worker, eventually she was taken into the arms of her new worker and waved to me and said, "bye bye" as she left the court yard to head towards the house.
Fet
Thursday was not only my birthday but was the feast of St. Louie, for which the home for the older children in our program is named, and the one year anniversary of my arrival at NPH. For the feast day celebration, there was a special liturgy at St. Louie that morning. In Haitian Creole the same word, fet, is used for birthday, feast day, party, celebration, and it has a couple of other uses too. It was not only my fet, but also fet for all of the children over the age of six in our program who celebrated the feast day of the patron of their house that day. After mass, the children joyfully sang Happy Birthday to me in Creole, French, English and Spanish! Then I was able to wish all of them "Bon fet!" I was delighted that my fet was their fet too.
Heart
Last November, as those who read this regularly might remember, I spent a week in Florida with a Haitian child who had heart surgery because due to immigration concerns Haitian parents are not typically allowed to accompany their children to the US when the child is there for surgery. I recall feeling a sense of joy when I translated for him when the doctor explained that he was all better. Unfortunately, this proved to be untrue. A few months ago, after an american pediatric cardiologist came to St. Damien Hospital, I heard that there was something wrong, and that this child will probably need to have heart surgery again. Yesterday, the other volunteer who had also spent some time with him in the states last year, informed me that he is currently in ICU here at St. Damien Hospital. I stopped by to say hello to him last night. He is on oxygen, and was sitting by his mother. When he saw me he smiled, but he looks tiered. His mother took my hand and held it to his chest; she wanted me to feel that his heart is beating too strongly and too quickly. His mother asked about my parents, because the child had told her about meeting them in Florida while he was recovering from surgery. He remembered going in the car with them and eating at a restaurant. His mother explained to me that her son has an infection and then she seemed to be explaining that something was ripped or torn; the previous surgery for some reason apparently did not work, despite the doctors believing it had last November. I don't know too many of the details regarding his situation or the likelihood of him returning to the US for a second surgery. In the meantime I will pray for him and ask you to do so too.
Hurricane
We were fortunate that the Tropical Storm Irene, which is now a hurricane, did not hit us directly. It seemed to affect the weather pattern a bit, but not in any serious ways, thank God. For all of you on the east coast of the United States who may have felt the earthquake and are preparing for Hurricane Irene, please be assured of my prayers. Take care. Be safe.
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