There is an elderly woman who lives across the road in Deslandes, in a small hut off the outdoor kitchen at Benitta & St. Geste's. I have never learned her name, but she starts each day by sweeping the dirt courtyard, singing Alleluia. She is a tiny thing, and might have limited capacities, but when she sings Alleluia, it comes from the heart. It is a wonderful to wake up at 5:30 or 6:00 to that sweet song. She'll walk around barefoot sweeping, and muttering a bit to herself. It is hard for me to understand her, and she has mostly been stand-offish with me, but on my last day in Deslandes, I had a short conversation with her in which I partially understood her.
Brooms in Haiti are made of natural materials, naturally. There is a daily ritual of sweeping the dirt courtyards, and then either collecting the leaves and putting them in a compost pile, or just throwing them under the cactus hedge. Last year Ian got quite a chuckle out of that, because of course the next day the leaves and debris were all over the courtyard again.
Sweeping is a daily chore, one left to women and children, and "my" little girls often swept our courtyard. The brooms take a bit of getting used to- not quite as easy as all that to get into nooks and cranneys!
While Deslandes doesn't have nearly as much garbage as other cities, and certainly nowhere near the problems of Port au Prince, there is still debris littering the schoolyard, and everyone seems to have a 'pitch pile' on their property for throwing plastics and tin cans, which will later be burned. Sighhh.
I can't get over the fact that everyone here is so...beautiful. Cleanliness is of utmost importance, and try as I may, I can never get my laundry as clean as Haitians do. I'm told that they use a harsher soap- and perhaps that's true, but some of my girls helped me do laundry one day, and they definitely have a different technique. You see women and children doing laundry all across the country- in any river they have access to, or in tubs in the courtyard. They are also immaculate all of the time- I have no idea, in such a dusty country, how they can't have grit all over them too. I can't for the life of me keep dirt out of my fingernails, yet I can't remember seeing a Haitian with dirty fingernails.
I love Haitian women dressed in black- that is a particularly beautiful combo. A few of my friends consented to photos. I don't have a photo of my alleluia lady- I have a strong vision of her in my mind, but somehow, it didn't seem appropriate to take a photo of someone I couldn't really communicate with.
My Alleluia woman lost her husband last year to cholera- he was elderly, and likely feeble already. I was in the village when it happened, and after the one night of wailing, we were back to the alleluia start to the day. We (my Endeavour group & I) were discussing the hardships of living life in Haiti (for Haitians), and how impressive it is that people keep going forward. Almost everyone I have met here was directly affected by the earthquake in 2010, and you can only imagine the hurt that comes with that, but although death happens, sometimes frequently in a community, people seem to have the ability to pick up the pieces and go forward. No time to make an appointment to see a therapist, nor money...but only the knowledge that in order to survive, there is work to be done, water to be collected, food to prepare. I have known since my visit here that Haitians are resilient, strong, and resourceful, and I have a lot of respect for them. There is a lot about how Haitians behave that I still find difficult to understand, but I'm sure they could say the same about me.
Here in Port au Prince, church service starts early- on average these days at 5am. And how do I know, you might wonder...why, it is conveniently broadcast with quite loud speakers from a couple of doors away from us. This morning's singing was softer and more in pitch than other times, and the preaching wasn't that yelling kind of preaching that is really unpleasant to wake up to. Given the choice, I'd take an alleluia kind of day anytime!
On that last day in Deslandes, as I was walking across the school field to go back to my room, I heard the little woman singing Alleluia again, and it was the perfect bookend to my day.
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