Under the Haitian Sun

"What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done; there is nothing new under the sun."- Ecclesiastes 1:9            

           Well, I finally got to the beach. 64 days in the Caribbean, but I finally got there. And it was as amazing as could be expected. The water was incredibly warm and clear, the waiters delivered cold Prestige to you, and the views of the steep hillsides and La Gonave in the distance were priceless. And then there was a fabulous sunset. I really don’t know if there is anything better than laying in the sun. It’s a golden glow that produces a kind of warmth, the kind that makes you feel like your spirit is being thawed by some holy power. Or maybe that’s just Vitamin D. Either way, you’re plugged in to some force, some energy. The sun is the sole producer of every calorie of energy our planet consumes. Coal, oil, wind energy, everything.

 Its power can be shared by all.

            I’ve been in the sun a lot these two months. And while I am always very intentional about applying sunscreen, sometimes it doesn’t always work. Especially when you miss spots on your back or chest. I now look like I have some weird skin disease. I have thought about just quitting my sunscreen application and really try to blend in. A few second-degree burns and maybe I’ll be “caramel”. I’m so tired of being called blan. Yes, thank you, I know I’m white.

Speaking of skin color and blending in with the locals, there was a great moment this morning. I took a break from the second church service of the day to take care of Dieumine’s baby, Nikita. I was sitting in one of the classrooms of the school, with her sleeping soundly on my lap, when a few Haitian teenagers walked in. In broken English, they asked me “Is that your baby?”. I laughed. I didn’t quite see the resemblance. I said no and then they asked if it was my wife’s baby. I then had to break the news that I wasn’t married.

            I was in the sun on Thursday too. I had perhaps my most unique experience so far. The driver, Jimmy, dropped me off on some random hillside in Crochu in order to plant a bunch of Jatropha seeds on some land Pere Val owns. I ended up meeting a Haitian man who didn’t know a lick of English and walked with him up this steep limestone incline to this gorgeous piece of property overlooking the valley. Here I planted 65 seeds (take that hippies on Earth Day!). As you might expect, the sight of a lone blan on the hillside caught the eye of many. Thus, I had a small crowd gathered around me thinking to themselves (yet again), “What is this crazy white boy doing?” They then started hassling me for seeds, which I reluctantly gave away. I did my best to explain to them that the seeds and the tree were poisonous. They likely ate them for dinner.

            After my gardening experiment was complete, I was then on my own to walk the mile or so down and then up and then back down…and then back up, to St. Alban’s Church where the doctors from Missouri were working. Besides being yelled at by a few children, I had a peaceful stroll across the Haitian countryside. The hike, however, was less than easy; it was burning hot, there was no shade, and the hillside was as steep as the trail ascending from the Inner Canyon in the Grand Canyon. The views made up for my suffering.

            And then, just this morning, I was stuck back in the sun. This time on the back of a taptap. We got a flat tire on our way to the second church service in Lilavois and hailed down a taptap (a Haitian taxi for those who don’t know). Sitting perched over the back tire on a 1984 Ford Ranger, I realized yet again that I stood out like a sore thumb. I myself have never seen a blan on a taptap.

         My days in Haiti are numbered. I’m really ready to not have intestinal issues, mosquito bites, and goat for supper. But as I reflect back on the past 65 days under the Haitian sun, I can help but realize just how much I have learned, experienced, and grown. My boredom and isolation has seen me read whole scenes of King Lear with an English accent, giving each character a distinct voice. I have written roughly 100 pages of a novel and three songs. I have read nearly 1,500 pages. I have laugh, cried, grown up, and thrown up. But I’m going to miss this place. The sunburns, the electricity going out in the middle of a Skype call, the roosters at 4:30AM, the cold showers. It makes you appreciate what you have back home.
But for now, I rest; I’ll be back in the sun tomorrow.

"Sunshine"

Matt Costa

Brushfire Records, 2005