GAMA,HAITI, and the Guest House

GAMA

Abe’s company is far more sophisticated  than I expected. Yes, I consider the guard at the door welding a sawed off shot gun and a metal detector sophisticated. At least I know if I am to get shot, it will be by someone in uniform. Thaddaeus, I suspect, will grow to be a pacifist. He refused to walk passed the guards and had to be carried. Abe’s boss Matthias is a short, small, funny looking man. Don’t any of you learn Creole and tell him I said so. Everyone appeared to be terrified of him, but honestly the way he yelled and screamed at his secretaries and choffeurs was rather humorous. Like a little salamander  squeaking at wincing crocodiles. I think I shall like him very much. He was very courteous to Abe and fawned over my children for a brief moment. He counted to four and looked at me like I was a goddess. He smiled and started asking me how the trip was and apologized deeply for not having a house for me. My heart stopped for a split second until he continued to explain in rather good English that his men were still working on the cupboards and final plumbing in our NEW house. I almost didn’t hear his continued apologies that I would have to live in the guest house for 22 days or so. Our own home. J

Matthias’ secretary ushered us downstairs and stood us in front of a white screen. She finally got across the fact that we were indeed NOT going to be shot one by one with the gun at the guard’s side, but rather with his little red camera.” Insurance cards.” she said. Thaddaues and Isaiah had to be held as they both were surprisingly wary of the now sweet and smiling armed man. After pictures were snapped another woman who spoke very good English sat us down with pen and papers. “You will have insurance for you and Mommy,  and your petites. The hospital in the hills is very nice. Very Nice. I give them your information.” She spoke with a heavy French-ish accent.  I stopped listening and tears threatened to overspill my tired eyes. Health insurance. And she was rattling on about life insurance on us all. She invaded my overwhelmed thoughts with a hand on my arm. “You will be safe, Mommy. I get your phone number to the pediatrician for the petites. The driver will show you where the hospital is and give you a map. I will give you a blackberry with all my numbers on it soon. I am here to help you with everything.”

HAITI

The first comment Isaiah made about Haiti once he was coherent was “Mommy, it smells bad here.” Yes. As Cliff weaved the truck in and out of traffic on the streets an aroma resembling day old diarrhea stung our noses. The pictures we had seen online of Haiti have so far not been misleading. Two story dirty buildings line both sides of black sludgey streets. There are a lot of people…walking, sitting, riding, staring. All of them staring at the white Mommy with four Petites. Everyone did seem to have some sort of shoes on and none of the children were naked. I was reminded of the time Abe and I accidentally got turned around on our way to Canada and ended up in the slummy, scary neighborhood of Chicago.  Abe told me several times as we drove that this was PetionVille. The nicest area of Port Au Prince.

THE GUEST HOUSE

The house we are staying in a rather big. A locked gate opens up to a well kept driveway.  Bars are on all the windows which unfortunately lack screens, leaving one to wonder if the still hot air is worse than the mosquitoes. That is probably the worst part of Haiti for us. The mosquitoes. All of my babes look like they have the chicken pox. And the bites don’t just itch, they burn terribly and swell to the size of quarters or silver dollars. ANYWAYS there is one bedroom on the main level that has two twin beds. The kids will have that room. Abe and I have a room upstairs that is small but adequate. There is a living area inside and another outside. There is another bedroom upstairs and a small sitting area, but they are reserved for another American that will be here in a couple of days. Charlie. The kitchen is in the back and opens to the back door and the servants quarters. We were met by an older man who is the gate keeper and security guard and a woman in her 20’s who is the housekeeper. Her name is Melinda and she and her 7 year old son live in one of the shacks in the back yard.

I would like to say we saw much of the area and learned a lot of things, but honestly, we went to bed shortly after arriving at the Guest house. Hot, sweaty, grouchy and exhausted.