Birthday Present

Right now I can hear music; this must be the last night of the rara. I was going to take a shower, but it’s dark and there will be cockroaches. My mom was worried about people peeking while I showered, but that would be the least of my problems, between the giant cockroaches, leaping lizards, and the tiny little wormy things in the shower water.... yeah, and you think that's bad, how about anonymous rodents leaving their leftovers in our bedroom? Oddly enough it's really not that bad, at least not as bad as it might sound.

Today Shirley was preaching in Dieulese. Antoine and I rode along, as well as Joe (Shirley’s husband), Vilien (driver) and Fequiere (interpreter). An hour of rocky road led us into the mountains, where the air is cooler and everything is greener. We parked in the road in front of the preacher’s house, because even if there were a place to park, there is no traffic to speak of. We were led into a beautiful sanctuary-like place, so clean, so peaceful, with flowers and plants and no free-range livestock wandering around pooping everywhere and making their barnyard racket. We had coffee and then went to church. Antoine and I sat in the back and observed. People get up and sing, and at one point a group of 7 or 8 young men got up and sang a cappella, it was awesome. Afterwards, we had lunch at the pastor’s house (whole fried fish, sweet potato, plaintain, beets, and the usual rice and beans). I usually take forever to eat fried fish, getting the bones out and everything, but Faquiere (Fakeer) showed us how to do it – no messing around with bones, just bite and chew, head and all. Then on the way home we got into a veritable race with some donkeys, who sprinted ahead of the truck for ages, refusing to get out of the freaking way.

Tonight a guy named Wesler (he's about 30) is leaving, he was in my English class but only for a few weeks, because he's a teacher and vacation is almost over. He’s actually an English teacher on the mainland, and he was probably the most advanced student I had. I was flipping through his English notebook on Friday, just reading the notes he had taken in class and on his own, and in it, he had written about his birthday. He wrote that he had never had a birthday party, and that one day he would like to have one. He was going to have one one year, but his grandfather died a few weeks before and his father died a week before, so he didn't get to. The last line was "I hope I’ll have a birthday party someday and that it will be wonderful." It really got to me, especially because his birthday is tomorrow. So I wrapped up one of my books (a book of American idioms) in disposable toilet seat covers that the team left, and decorated it with some kid stickers, left by the team in Anse a Galets. When he came to say goodbye, we talked for a while, and I went to get it. When I came back out, I said, "it's your birthday tomorrow, right?" and then he saw the gift and his lips started shaking, and I had to ask him again before he answered. He quickly composed himself, but to see him react that way, especially someone who is normally extremely calm, I know that he was so touched, and then I felt just wonderful and wanted to cry, but I made him promise not to open it until tomorrow and shook his hand goodbye and Antoine and I promised to come visit in April. I hope he likes it.

First taste of Rara

This week is "la periode sainte" in Haiti. Holy week is full of religious celebrations which are polarized into the Church side and the Rara side. Raras are (voodoo) celebrations with drums/music, singing and dancing which can last well into the night, and the church tolerates them but does not appreciate them. Several people explained to me that the rara tradition began when Jesus was crucified, and people danced and sang in the streets to celebrate his death. Dancers can be "mounted" by the loa, voodoo spirits, who possess them, communicate through them, and make them do things. This said, I haven't felt anything sinister about the rara, just people dancing and singing and playing drums, moving from place to place in the village. I think I've only seen the tip of the iceberg though.

Anyway, Sunday night, there was a rara going on, and my curiosity must have been sensed, because four girls who were hanging around the guest house led me down to it. I was nervous about going, because I wasn't sure if I was really truly invited. I would hesitate and they would giggle and tug my arms until I started walking again. People swarmed around me, trying to get me to dance, shouting.... I wish I understood Creole better, if for no other reason than to be reassured that they weren't pissed that I was even there. I'm pretty sure they weren't, but I didn't stay long anyway before retreating back to my place, followed by a small crowd of kids. Sitting on the porch, Sonell, a 13 year old boy, was explaining to me that the rara is evil and that dancing in the rara is a sin. Love, who's about 15, shot back that rara is not a sin and that the only sins are tue moun, tue zanimo, koupe bwa (killing people, killing animals, and cutting down trees).