Yesterday after church, as per usual, I called my moto driver to come pick me up at the center and take me to the guesthouse 2 villages down the mountain (yes that is exactly how distance is measured here…at least by me). Our service had ended a bit earlier than usual and his church was still going strong so he told me he would send a friend. Within a few minutes his friend arrived- let’s call him Bucky. Why? Because he had no front teeth and in my mind the name fits perfectly. So Bucky and I headed down the mountain road. Maybe 3 minutes in and it started to drizzle. Thirty more seconds and it started to pour.
Let me give you a little background information about me and rain. For whatever reason rain declared war on me some years ago. During my time in Kosrae, I experienced many a boat ride being pelted by rain and frantically shoving personal belongings into empty trash bags. On the other end of the spectrum, there were many a day when rain refused to fall, tanks temporarily dried up, showers were minimal, and canoe rides full of dirty laundry went in search of a river that still had some flow to it. Apparently this love/hate relationship with the rain has followed me to Haiti, where once again I am either doing a rain dance or begging for it to stop.
Bucky yelled back at me, which was a necessity as we were both wearing helmets impairing both speech and hearing, as we are pulling over, to get off and go into a house just off the road. I hopped off and with an alarmingly low amount of hesitation I headed for the small, cement building he had pointed to. The fear of electronics being drenched and ruined must lower inhibitions. I stepped inside where two Haitian men were sitting on chairs near the open doorway. Bucky parked the moto and came in right behind me. Another guy joined the party too – rain brings the people together. The men offered us some other chairs and we sat and watched the rain.
The house was a simple cement building, one floor, two rooms, no paint. There was, however, a nice china cabinet with various, decoratively painted tea sets and a decanter with matching glasses. The chairs we were sitting in were part of a nice dining table set which had a pristine, lace tablecloth. I have driven past this house many times and I never would have guessed what it held inside. A woman was cooking out back under a tin roof awning and the smoke wafted in through the house, leaving a heavy scent of pine in the air. As we sat, the owner of the house showed off his dog…a Chihuahua. He held it up for the other men to see, they discussed how the dog is 2 years old and not a puppy like it may appear and how Chihuahuas are smarter than big dogs. During the entire conversation, I was daydreaming about burritos so there may have been more that was talked about but the mental imagery was overwhelming for a girl with a relatively empty stomach.
Eventually, the rain let up and me and Bucky thanked the residents for their hospitality and moved on. But this was one of those pleasant moments, a snapshot, seemingly insignificant but memorable. The rain allowed me to peek in on the life of someone else. Any information I gathered was of course superficial, simply based on my surroundings, but it was interesting. I think that’s what I like most about staying in other countries; seeing how people live, what they have, what they don’t have, what their daily life entails, how they spend their time. I find these glimpses fascinating and I thank Bucky dearly for pulling over when he did and providing me the opportunity to see Haiti from another perspective today. And for keeping my various electronics packed in my very not water proof bookbag safe and dry.
Leave A Comment