A Typical Day

I awake between 6:30 & 6:45am each morning to the sun shining in through my dorm room window, filtered by the partially turned plastic shutters, and the breeze coming through carrying the sounds of children playing and the sporadic crow of a rooster. I get dressed and make my way downstairs to prepare breakfast; usually toast or Cream-of-Wheat with apples. Mornings are usually slow and easy with time to read and/or sit out on the balcony while I eat my breakfast and listen to town wake up. It is never still here; never quiet. There are constant sounds of children shouting and playing, hammering, cars and motorcycles, honking horns, the shrill mating calls of an unusual bug that I have yet to see and the occasional "moo" from the neighbour's cow.

Sitting on the balcony has become one of my favorite things to do here, taking in the view and breathing in the cool air that besides the odd wafts from the septic system and the smell of burning trash piles, usually smells warm and sweet. When breakfast is done and dishes are cleaned, dipped in the bleach water and set to dry, I brush my teeth (water bottle in one hand, tooth brush in the other, as using the water would pretty much ensure another round of what is commonly referred to as "Haitian Happiness" or "Haitian Sensation") and in the absence of a mirror, watch the little bugs climb single file up and down the grout between the blue/grey bathroom wall tiles. Bugs are everywhere; little ones wandering along every surface and getting into everything, flies whizzing around freely and the occasional rather large cockroach skittering through the kitchen cupboards or along the counter or the kitchen floor. Though, I'm not terribly bothered by any of this, I do actually quite enjoy the gecko's that pop out randomly from beneath the furniture, along the walls or in the cupboards. I'm told we also have a mouse living behind the stove, but I have yet to see it.

Even using the bathroom has established some habits that I had not previously been accustomed to. As we go by the expression "If it's yellow, let it mellow; if it's brown, flush it down" to preserve water, I either have to walk away or flush with one hand on the plunger as lacking water pressure has led to it's use on a number of occasions. That is if the water is running because due to the generator not being on or broken or the water pump acting up, we are occasionally without running water which means flushing the toilet manually with a bucket of water.

Once we're all ready, at about 7:40, we gather our backpacks and make the 15/20 minute trek down to the mainhouse along steep roads with surfaces that range from fine gravel to sheer rock which gets quite slippery in the heat. I have yet to slip but a couple far from graceful "almosts" have led to the laughter and amusement of the locals that were lucky enough to be around to witness it. Although these roads have also made me rather aware of a certain muscle in my upper rear-end that I was not previously aware of, I very much enjoy this part of my day; especially the stray goats and chickens that meet us along the way. The locals are all very friendly and we always greet each one with a friendly "Bonjou" which is always reciprocated. We do make a point, though, of not being too friendly with the the young men in the neighbourhood as it's easy to give the wrong impression and even without any instigation, they often call out things in Creole that I should probably be glad I don't understand. My favorites are the old man who sits, unfailingly, each morning atop his rock pile, smashing each rock into fine gravel to be used to make bricks and the little kids that live in a shack near the mainhouse who often run out to greet us and walk along with us until we reach the gate. Once we've rung the bell, been let in by Abraham, the keeper of the keys, we head to the balcony, drop our bags and after a few moments to settle and grab a homemade cinnamon bun from the kitchen, we brave the nursery to grab our first child of the day. The big nursery is always a bit overwhelming and always smells very strongly of baby powder and the lingering stink of the latest blowout and my strategy is just to grab whichever of my kids finds me first. As the child's diaper is usually always full of something, it has become habit for all of us to check before lifting and, if needed, alert the nearest nanny that our child is "sal" (dirty) so they can be changed before being brought up to the balcony.


Mornings are cool and laidback and conversations are easy. Creole is spoken almost as much as English as we have all gotten very used to speaking to the kids in their native language. As Creole is very similar to French, my grade 8 French has proved somewhat useful and I've picked up even more then I expected to. There is also a small stereo and a selection of burnt mix CD's that ensure there is always a melody to enjoy and it helps to drown out the dull hum of the generator below the balcony.


At 12:00 we make our way down to the main living area and relax, mingle and check email until the meal bell is rung and we gather around the table for lunch. Anyone heard of Pavlov's Dog? I swear, every time I hear a bell now, I start salivating. Meals are always pleasant and homey and the mainhouse is constantly filled with the usually unpleasant sounds of screaming children, but it has just become apart of the building and does nothing to hinder the relaxed atmosphere below.

From 1:00-5:00, we return to the balcony for the second shift with our kids. We spend most of the time with our kids on the balcony, but we do occasionally spend some time downstairs or changing our kids out of their nursery clothes, adding some shoes and a hat and going for a walk in the neighbourhood. Typically, going outside means making our way a short distance down the road to a small "shop" consisting of a small hole cut into the wall of a house and filled in with bars. The same woman is always there, selling a variety of drinks and snacks and other typical corner store merchandise but all we ever get is a drink called Tampico (costing 15 Goudes), a Sunny D like fruit punch that I typically dilute I find it much too thick and sweet on it's own. A little before 5:00, we tidy up then grab our bags and head downstairs tired and filthy. I have gotten quite used to feeling sweaty and dirty as our army-style showers are only allowed every other day and not only are the kids dirty, any time of cuddling usually leaves both child and volunteer covered in a layer of sweat.

Downstairs, dinner is a little more formal and each person chips in to help set the table with napkins, cups with ice, utensils and a few old-fashioned glass bottles of Coke and Sprite. I don't often drink pop at home, especially Coke, but I admit that a cold glass of Coke at the end of the day has become a luxury that I look forward to each and every day. Once again, we rest and mingle until the bell at which time we come together in a circle, pray together, then sit down to eat. It feels much like a family and I love that.


When meals are finished, we are each responsible for scraping our own dishes and setting them on the counter for the kitchen staff. Most of the kitchen staff have come to know my name and it's a joy to meet their smiling faces each day with "Bonjou" or "Bonswa" (depending on the time of day) and have them repeat it back with my name tagged onto the end of it. One of the matriarchs, Marie-Josee, has come to enjoy bringing me in for a hug every so often and even though one of my biggest frustrations here is the language barrier with the Haitian staff, we usually manage to communicate just fine. I am learning as much and as best that I can. Last week, after a typical greeting, I felt the obligation to continue the conversation so after a moment of silence, I stupidly babbled out the question "How was your day?", to which they responded with silence and expressions that combined confusion with amusement. So I took another second to dig through my memory before trying again with a tentative "Ca va?". My second try immediately brought on smiles and the ease of understanding and they each responded with encouraging nods and the reciprocal "Ca va." that is commonly expressed as a polite answer to what I believe is equivalent to "How are you?".


After dinner, we hang back until about 7:00pm before making the bumpy drive up to the toddler house. This time is spent catching up with blogs and email before and after watching the sunset from the play balcony; usually with a baby in each of our arms. Back at the toddler house, evenings are slow and easy as the mornings and spent reading, hanging out or watching a movie in the livingroom together. I'm usually the last to go to bed and my last waking moments are spent alone in the livingroom reading a book before climbing into bed and falling asleep to the steady hum of the ceiling fan, the shrill of the crickets and the distand, but incessant barking of the neighbourhood dogs.


This is a typical day in Haiti.