The shy young boy who came to the sewing class with his mother. He was polite and very curious, hanging back, watching us. He found the bubble wrap with which the sewing machines had been packed with. Picking a piece up, he began popping the bubbles individually. Enter Stephen H. He grabbed a big piece, wadded it up, then gave it a mighty twist, causing the bubbles to pop like a string of Black Cats firecrackers. The little boy grinned! He tried it and made it pop like Stephen’s. Boys and bubble wrap. No matter the age or nationality, they love their bubble wrap!
We brought
along some donated clothing items to give away.
One of the items was a pair of men’s tennis shoes, used but still in
decent condition. I noticed an older
gentleman sitting in the church, several rows back. A young woman was kneeling at his feet. “Oh how sweet, she’s tying his shoes for him,”
I thought as I noticed his crutches laying next to him. I turned away, busy with something else. Later, I looked back at the man, who appeared
to be sleeping with his head on his chest.
Then I saw his foot moving slowly.
He was looking down, admiring his new footwear, the donated tennis shoes,
slowly turning his foot back and forth like a woman admiring new shoes. I walked over to get a closer look. His old shoes were nearby, badly scuffed and
worn through on the soles. He looked up
at me with a sincere smile, appreciation radiating from his eyes.
 |
| Do you see both chickens? |
One of the things I love about Haiti is the abundance of chickens. In the country and in the city, they are everywhere. We had gone to a church in Port-au-Prince to deliver food to the congregation. One of our first-timers, a young man, would be giving a short talk. His father asked me to videotape it. I sat in the front row enjoying the singing, ready to capture Erik’s talk. I heard a chicken, murmuring to herself somewhere in the background. “Ooh, I hope she walks through here,” I thought to myself. Erik began his talk, I began videoing him. The feathered murmuring grew louder. There she was, walking behind the pulpit, peering out around it. Sorry, Erik, gotta capture this… The local Haitian preacher shooed her away. Drats! Back to Erik’s talk. All was quiet for a bit, then she started up again. This time a rooster was following behind her. Priceless!! How many of us leave church mid-sermon and return with a friend to hear the Good News?!
Skin tones
I sat down next to some Haitians at church. We smiled at each other. They asked me if I spoke Creole. I said yes, a little. More people arrived, the pews filled up, and we squished in closer. I heard whispers as my pew buddies turned to their friends behind them and relayed the news that this white woman understood a little Creole. The sermon progressed. I felt the lady next to me gently press her arm against mine, then whisper to her neighbors as she compared the color of our skin. The Haitians are as curious about us as we are about them!
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