Haiti Journal – May 31, 2006 – Night
Third and final clinic day. We totaled out around 380 people. That makes today a solid 150, which was the heaviest we’ve seen. Lots of excitement too. One man came in with a machete wound to his hand, which Jen had to debraid to get all the ground coffee and dirt out of it. Her translator, Emmanuel, bailed at the sight of blood. Michelle stayed. I think that Michelle is trying to get a feel for whether medicine is for her. I think that this is very wise.
After lunch, I helped Sister Carmel by “fixing” her computer. The network cable had gotten loose, and I re-seated it. So, having “fixed” the network, I went ahead and installed all the security updates and new printer drivers. In the middle of this, she asked if she could get me a drink. I said “no,” but she insisted, so I asked for a coke. Shortly after, a very deferential nun brought me a coke bottle, on a saucer. I think it was the best consulting gig I’ve ever done.
Each evening, we have devotions, where we talk down the day, sing a bit of Christian campfire music (that I don’t know), and pray. This is the part that gets to me. E. and J. have that maddening smugness of the saved southerner. Instea of having faith, knowing that they are sinners, they have faith, knowing that they’re more special than any of us. Every night, we sing a bunch of songs that manyu of us have never heard before. Then some people talk about how blessed they are for helping the poor. Go in your closet and pray, says me. Bah.
Mealtime is pleasant. There’s always a big pile of starch: rice, spaghetti, or potatoes. Then there’s a bit of flavored meat (I take the sauce to season my rice) and a little salad with tomatoes. Sometimes there’s cabbage, beets, or carrots in the salad.
In the morning, the coffee is crushed with a mortar and pestle.
I got email addresses from a couple of people. Chimi mentioned at our devotional that the orphans were asking people who had been there months before. Her eyes teared up when she revealed that she could already barely remember their names. I was all into it until E. told us to pray for them by name.
On the other hand, there was a thunderstorm during our little group time. I found myself thinking of the orphans on that mountain hillside, listening to the thunder inside their little shelter. Sure, it’s a concrete building … but all the same it makes me teary eyed.
My spiritual journey right now is solitary.
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