A Kid's Joy

About as far removed from our rushed, stressed, complicated way of life as you can get, are a bunch of kids in a little Haitian village who know nothing of American politics, the global economy, or who won the Emmy's.  They're unaware of 9/11, Adderall, and Ambien.  They just are.  Their concerns aren't global, they're local. Extremely local.  Like will I eat today? Will anybody in my family get sick today? I wish we had a school.  Stuff like that.

I learned something in a little mountain village in Haiti last Monday.  I learned that it takes more than struggle and hardship to take away a kid's joy.  I was lucky enough to capture a few moments of it here...

First Impressions of the Children of Mare Koshon

Mare Koshon

A week ago today I jumped on a motorcycle and headed to the mountains with a couple of good Haitian friends.  They had been telling me of a tiny village up there where there was great need. So I said let's go.  The road was brutal all the way up.

When we finally got close we parked the bikes and walked toward a stand of mature mangoes where we heard some commotion.  In the cool, dense shade of the trees were gathered a bunch of young children. The ground was dense with old and brittle mango leaves.  It was impossible to walk quietly.  I learned that the children gather here under these trees about three times a week to sing and play and to be read a story out of a
Bible story book.

Mme Diwork

I later learned that there is no school here (Mare Koshon they call it) and that they fetch their water from about a mile away. I did not see much in the way of garden crops or animals. No electricity, of course.  91 homes. They told me they had a church but I didn't go to see it.  They told me there had never been a medical or dental team come to their village. The woman whose land the mango trees were on was 85 years old. Her name was Madam Diwork. Born, I calculated, around 1926.  Man.  Her deep wrinkles betrayed her hard life. She had defied the life expectancy odds of living here.  I wondered what all she had seen.

They tell me Mare Koshon means "standing water where the pigs go to" and they walked me to a field that for some reason, did not drain water well even though we were at some altitude.  It was boggy with a fair amount of standing water. I never saw any pigs.

I have a few videos of my time there and I'll post them when I figure out how. You will enjoy them, I'm pretty sure.

You can't find Mare Koshon on a map. I figure that's because it's tiny, plus no one much knows its there.  But now I know it's there.  My time there was one of those alive, exhiliarating, pinch me experiences you have every so often. Mare Koshon is a precious place with precious people whose needs are basic and severe. I figure I'll be back. Probably soon.

Stopped back by the cholera hospital today. Pleasantly surprised to see just four patients there. They were all quite ill though,m and I wouldn't be surprised if on guy doesn't survive the night.

I'm glad to be able to blog from where I am, but it's difficult on this dinky blackberry, plus I can't post pics from my blackberry to my blog. I have posted a half dozen or so on facebook. For some reason I can do that.

Tomorrow I'll trave by boat down the coast to visit a tiny seaside village. Can't wait.

Blessings,
Steve

Much to Catch Up On

It's tough to type long narratives on a 1 x 3 inch blackberry keyboard with type font in the negative numbers but I'll try my best while in Haiti these next couple of days. I know from my earthquake days that folks like to hear directly from the front lines.

I haven't blogged much for the last several weeks and there's a reason for that... So much going on. Guess it's why you don't see many interviews of athletes while the game is going on.

Much to catch you up on... Talk to you from Haiti tomorrow.

Steve