routine Haiti
4:45AM I let out an enormous yawn, stretch my arms, and roll over to view another eye-opening sunrise. I sit up lazily to get the blood flowing through my body with coffee on the brain. Nick and I serve the same watch and as our routine goes he wonders into the galley bringing to life our coffee maker. Unfortunately, this coffee-making process takes about 30 minutes; Nick and I sit in silence breathing in the last of the cool morning breeze and reveling in our fleeting silence. I hear the generator click into a lower gear sending a glorious high pitch sound across the bow-coffee is ready! Nick stumbles once more down into the boat prepares two cups drinks his half right then and there, refills his glass, and saunters back up to the saloon roof to resume his place at my side-silence still luffs in the sails. By this time in the morning I have managed to lay out my yoga mate, complete some Noah-Hass-Certified-push-ups, squeeze in some sit-ups, and stretch cramped muscles. Breaking the silence either Nick and I enter with a lazy “good morning-how did you sleep?”. A wasted question at best. I know and Nick knows just how well one another slept. Hot, humid, windy, stale air, slight drizzle to drive the point home, and a full on heat wave when the sun rays reach your face-oh I sleep great here in Haiti. I stare at the bottom of my empty coffee cup, push myself to my feet, absent-mindedly take Nick’s cup and mosey into the galley for refills-my round also includes oatmeal with honey and craisins. On my way out the door I pass Nick taking in sleeping gear and I swipe my latest book of the shelf juggling coffee and breakfast bowls. I cannot tell you how good it feels to have completed a mini work-out, drink coffee, finish a liter of water, have a solid breakfast, read a book, and still be ready to head to clinic all before 8:00AM-superstar.
Looking out over the bow of the boat every morning I smile. I feel inspired to take this routine back home with me. Getting up early to beat the people moving rush allowing what precious time I have to myself psychologically prepare my body and mind for the day ahead. It feels great.
Getting into the skiff gear on my back treats in my pockets and bug spray head to toe I am ready to clinic hours. It is only a 10 minute, maybe less, ride to shore and I pray the little clouds that are left hanging in the sky stick around to help shade our faces. Once on shore I jump over the splashing waves already surrounded by routine Haitian locals. The kids have some to expect us in the morning often missing individual crew members during our boat rotations. With big smiles and bright eyes the kids latch on to my hands and arms skipping at my side. I greet every person I see in Creole excited when I am given the chance to offer a response. The locals love hearing us speak their native tongue and are wonderful teachers slowly pronouncing words for us to repeat. I love this walk to the clinic. I will miss it very much when I am gone.
People shout your name, laugh, beg for anything that they think you might be willing to part with, and follow you to your destination-no matter how far. Some faces are initially sad, angry, stern, and wanting, but with a simple smile and cheerful greeting those same faces transform into warm expressions of homeliness.
The walk home from the clinic is the same, but this trip back leaves my pockets empty of treats for the kids. I know. I know. I am guilty. I pass out double bubble gum. I blame Brian-it’s your fault. He bought them and left to film in India leaving me the tooth loving innocent to pass out these cavity ridden chew things. What can I say, the kids and Brian smile so nicely, I cannot resist. BUT- I always say “brush your teeth”-not sure how much good that does.
Back at the boat I wind down in a similar fashion to waking. I sit on the bow of the boat drinking my fourth and last liter of water watching the sun go down over Petit-Goave. Silence is not a main player in this process as the entire community is also winding down, but I enjoy the time all the same. I finish in the dark with a chapter or two from my book escaping to yet another reality-dirk pitt anyone? I help with dinner (make it, eat it, and clean it up), wash my face, brush my teeth, floss, and lay out my bed outside once more. The moon is high in the sky by now. The stars glitter. The wind picks up off shore keeping the beads of sweat barely at bay. I sigh loudly. Nick says good night have snoring. I take one last look at the moon – mom, you told me that whenever I feel like I am far from home to just look at the moon and remember we are looking at each other. I feel instantly comforted. I already told you how the sleeping thing goes here-not well.
Routine is my thing and this is my Haiti schedule. For better and for the worse (mostly due to something I should not have eaten) I am making the most of my time here….i wonder what everyone else is doing?
