At St. Etienne

We arrive at St. Etienne and immediately are mobbed by excited children. Some of them call out, "Amelia! Amelia," looking for Amelia Hassoun, who visited St. Etienne two times, and "Henri," for Henry Sikes, another repeat visitor. A boy comes up, tugs on my shorts, and whispers, "Balloon." Unfortunately, I do not have one, but he will soon see balloons flying through the Salmadere sky.

After a short time of general confusion (moving our gear into a little covered room where we will sleep, getting treats for children sorted out, and so on), our students begin to mingle with kids. The first big hit is a jump rope game, with Ursula starting the game, Adam following close behind, and Julian jumping for his life.  Groups of little girls join in, and soon some sophisticated older jumpers start a serious  jumping chant and go for broke.

Kelly makes paper bag puppets with kids, gives out friendship bracelets, blows bubbles, and makes play dough animals. Lydia blows bubbles and turns jump-ropes for ever. Beachball, frisbee, and jump-roping are Philip's style, in addition to a long (safe) walk on trails with the teasing intention of getting to the Dominican Republic seven miles away. (He didn't make it, of course). Julian makes paper bag puppers like crazy and uses "bendy colored things" (translation: pipe cleaners) to the delight of the kids. Ursula's giant hit is painting nails with little girls--oh, the fun! Everyone does more than this. .. they are absolute troupers.

One of the things that we have come to love about Haitian children (and Haitians in general) is their degree of close physical affection. The hug each other; they drape arms around each other's shoulders; they pat each other and tap each other and walk hand in hand, even teeneagers, with no self-consciousness. They come up to us and grab our hands and touch us, too. I was sitting with one little girl who was tending her little baby brother. She reached up tenderly pushed my bangs to the side of my face. (Most Haitian women wear their hair pulled back and off their foreheads.) She patted it and arranged it until it pleased her, then touched my face as if it say, "Whew! That's better."

One of the high points of this day--actually, the whole trip--was a late afternoon walk we took with a throng of children. The students went to the top of the hill with most of the children, while Yvonne and I stayed behind with our little admirers. We stopped just outside a little wooden house with open windows and a curtain billowing. The view to either side of the house (a little more sturdy than a hut) was the most spectacular I could ever imagine. The house set at the top of a rise, with land stretching below dotted with livestock. The family there greeted us warmly. We stayed there for a while, chatting in just a few words of Spanish, Kreyol, and English. The daughter of the house made gentle fun of my poor communication skills; Yvonne chased her and tickled her. It was all in good humor and a rare treat: to be at the tip-top of Haiti chit-chatting with a Haitian family.