Drove for the first time on Saturday. The trip went well all-in-all. Ashley was my navigator and we made our way to and from Ultimate, relishing our independence. The roads are narrow and honking is a common way to indicate you're about to come barreling around a blind corner. We made it back to the apartments just before dark, sweaty and triumphant. It's like discovering the freedom you feel at 16, all over again. Only here there are no rules to the road, you get to know the exact parameters of your vehicle very quickly, and parking? You just pop two wheels on the curb and you're good to go. Forget right of way too. You see your opening, you take it. Or, you end up on the wrong end of a tap-tap, overflowing with people, staring at the idiot "blanc," who clearly has no business being behind the wheel.
You can read a lot in a person's stare. It's one of my favorite things about this country, the way people unabashedly observe each other. I don't know if it's each other, so much as it is me...Either way, I take it as an invitation to stare right back. It's fascinating what we miss, while pretending not to look. Mostly, I try to read people's faces as though they were maps, and the contours of their features are landmarks by which I hope to navigate cultural barriers. I'm still trying to figure out how far a simple smile will get me. While that sounds calculating, you'd be surprised at the variety of responses I've had to one. On a scale of 1 to Kissy Faces, there is lots of room for interpretation.
As I meet new people, I get asked the same, or some slight variation of the same, question: How do you like it so far? I'm never sure if "it" refers to Haiti, school, or teaching. Either way my response is the same. All 3 have their challenges but I love what i'm doing and where i'm doing it. It's hard to explain, how quickly we adjust. Ashley recently posted a blog about this very idea, after a conversation we had in the car on the way home from work. All of sudden the sights, smells, and sounds of our environment have become common-place. I'm no longer as affected by the rubble, garbage, and poverty on the streets, because I see that it's part of a way of life that works and makes sense here. The ditch pigs and street chickens (and goats) still amuse me, but I no longer search them out every morning on the drive to school, wondering if they were slaughtered for griot the night before. This shift, I hope, is indicative of an ascension to a more integrated existence here.
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