Where He leads...: February 2014

Originally posted on the FHM blog I manage, www.fhminhaiti.blogspot.com.

In brainstorming topics for this blog, I came up with an idea for a series of posts I'll title "Haiti Reflections". I've got a potential list of four or five entries already—I'll number them—but they won't necessarily be right after another. I'll likely have other posts between them. As titled, these will be my reflections of Haiti as I'm learning about the culture and what it's like to live here as a foreigner. I hope these posts will give you a glimpse into Haiti while also providing an opportunity to learn, be challenged, and have our minds opened to go deeper into a country and culture that so many of us find ourselves connected to in some way—either by serving here ourselves or having friends and family who travel or live here.

So let's get started...

Recently I was up in the mountains visiting a community I got to know last year when working on a latrine project. I love this mountain village. It's a neat adventure to cross the riverbed and start the hike up the big mountain you see beyond you. When my mom visited in October, we made the journey to this village and spent the night in the home of one of the families there. That was the last time I had been there until two weeks ago. It was great to reconnect with the families there, see how the kids have grown, and see that they are still enjoying their latrines!

I have two cameras. A simple point and shoot camera that I take with me nearly everywhere. It's small and easy to slip into my bag in case I just need to get a shot of this or that. I also have an SLR with a few lenses and I use that when I'm in the mood to carry it around or have a special need for the use of a better camera. I've always enjoyed taking pictures. People tell me I have some skill. I wish I had more skill. But I'm happy to play around with it, enjoy it as a hobby, and take some good shots from time to time that I can use to help tell the story of Haiti.

I love the Haitian homes you encounter in the mountains. They often have more character, color, and charm than the concrete homes you find in the cities. They provide a great backdrop, from a photographer's viewpoint, for the family gathered together in the "lakou" (yard), socializing and passing time while they are cooking, sorting beans, or studying a school lesson. I like how the organization Lakou Lape describes it... "The Creole translation for Lakou translates closely to a safe space that offers a sense of community, belonging and understanding." The houses themselves are made of a variety of materials, typically wood—and often wood from coconut trees which shows off the curved texture of each log as it connects to the next. Some are a mix of wood, metal, and concrete. I enjoy portrait shots with someone sitting or standing in front of the rough textures that seem to tell a story of their own.

And it was one of these portrait shots I was interested in capturing as I was talking to this sweet elderly woman that I see most every time I'm in this village. She was standing in the doorway chatting with me about her ailments and as I'm listening I'm thinking about how the light is highlighting the lines on her face and the wooden doorway is an appropriate frame for this shot and the ragged clothing she has on is another accessory that captures the reality of this moment. I ask her if I can take her photo and she immediately says, "Oh no, I must change into nicer clothing and put something on my head because I've done nothing with my hair." As much as I selfishly wanted the photo as I already saw it in my mind, I owed this woman the dignity of capturing her as she felt most comfortable being photographed. Clean, made up, and with proper clothes on.

With a photograph, we have the power to give someone dignity or take it away. I can't say that I've never taken a photograph without asking permission and that I've always captured people in the best light—or in the light that they would most prefer. But I have realized more and more that the stories we tell are often defined by the pictures we take. And we owe it to the people we're photographing, to take pictures they want taken to tell the stories they want told. This woman may live in an impoverished situation in a difficult and remote village, but she is a woman of dignity just like my own grandmothers were. They took pride in their appearance and made their best effort to look their best for company, and certainly for photographs. In her old age and with many ailments, the first thing my sweet Haitian friend did was ask if I wanted a chair. Hospitality and kindness were on her mind. Meanwhile, I have to be careful to not let my mind quickly jump to, "Wow, this would make a great photo and really capture 'Haitian village life.'"

I told her I would pass back by and allow her time to change. When I returned, she had covered her head with a scarf and put on a beautiful, clean, blue and white polka-dot dress. Shoulders back, she posed for the photo and of course enjoyed seeing it on the screen and laughing with joy at her own image. Perhaps this photo had a different effect than the first image I saw, though who's to say which one is more true? The photo of a woman not expecting visitors so she saw no need to make herself presentable that day? Or the photo of a social, dignified woman who would never think of having her picture taken without a quick glance in the mirror?

The photos we take are important. They tell a story. Stories that really aren't ours to tell, and yet sometimes we are given that special privilege. Let's treat that privilege as we should treat any privilege... with care.

This online article provides further insight on the subject of Ethics and Photography.

I'm always blessed by the sweet and giving nature of so many Haitians I meet. When we stopped by this lady's house up in Chevrine last week, she asked us if we wanted some coconuts from her tree. Sometimes I politely refuse when offered gifts of food, as I don't feel comfortable taking from these families what they need themselves. This woman had just finished telling us that recently someone had come into her home and made a mess of the place, stealing all of her money. The two little children were home at the time. She had gone to tie up her cow in a field nearby. She was very upset about this, but two minutes later is offering us this gift of coconut milk. I could tell that she had so much joy in wanting to give despite her own hardships. Realizing this, I accepted, as didn't want to steal that blessing from her. Indeed "it is more blessed to give than to receive." (Acts 20:35) Though of course we also were blessed and thoroughly enjoyed this special treat!

Growing up in East Tennessee, this is a phrase I've heard often.

"Tomorrow we will do such and such, God willin' and the creek don't rise." Meaning, we will do it—so long as no unforeseeable circumstances arise and change our plans.

Many Haitians use a similar phrase, tacked on to the end of every single utterance regarding the future... si Bondye vle or si Dye vle, which literally translates "if God wants". They make their plans, but realize that ultimately God is in control.

Every time our housekeeper Jocelyne leaves for the day, she'll tell me goodbye and that she'll see me tomorrow, God willing. I asked her why she says it.

"Maybe I get home and I get sick or start to have pain and I can't work tomorrow. So I say, God willing. It's God who decides if He wants it to happen."

Our cook Yvette chimes in and agrees.

I ask Jocelyne if she has anything else to add.

"That's it," she says. "There's nothing else to add." As in... it's as simple as that! We plan, but God is still in control. End of story!

Junior, our groundskeeper and go-to guy, has been listening and remarks, "I may go to sleep tonight and not wake up in the morning. It might be my last sleep. This is why we say it."

And that brings us to the topic of Haitian prayers that almost always include thanking God for letting us sleep and also letting us wake up. Maybe I'll save that topic for another post, si Bondye vle.

Creole phrase of the day:
A demen si Dye vle. (ah deh-min see jeh vlay)
See you tomorrow, God willing.

Fill in the blank. The fruit pictured below is called __________________.

If you said "corossol", you're right! This fruit can grow quite large, typically weighing a few pounds, and is characterized by its green color and prickly skin. Inside you'll find a delectable white pulp with big black seeds similar to watermelon seeds.

You can eat the pulp itself, though after a few bites, it becomes almost like indissolvable chewing gum and most people spit it out. In Haiti, it's more commonly made into juice... a juice I refer to as "sweet nectar from Heaven". One corrosol can produce a significant amount of thick juice that is then combined with sugar, evaporated milk, and sometimes vanilla or almond extract.

To make the juice, Haitians generally use a sturdy cup to mash the pulp juice through a sieve. If available, a blender may be used to chop and smooth the thicker pieces.

My friend Andremene making my favorite juice! It takes about 4 hours to hike to her house. Enjoying this juice in such a remote location is an exceptional treat!

I've already let our cook Yvette know how much I love corossol juice. She's been making it at least once a week! I'm getting spoiled!

A fruit of many names. Corossol is also referred to as soursop. In Haitian Creole it's kowosol or corosòl. And in many Spanish-speaking countries it's called guanabana. Other names include custard apple, graviola, and Brazilian paw paw. But what's in a name? That which we call a corossol by any other name would taste as sweet!

A refreshing treat to beat the heat. Many people in Haiti freeze corossol juice to make ice cream. Haiti's famous Pat n To's ice cream offers corossol as one of their flavors as does Bongu's canned shakes.

A wealth of health benefits. Corossol has been reported to offer a number of benefits including high amounts of B and C vitamins, relieving liver ailments and skin irritations, protecting against UTIs, and some even suggest it can prevent cancer. (Other uses include treating bedbugs and head lice with its leaves and using the pulp as fish bait.)

A hot commodity. It's not always easy to find corossol in the market. You'll need to rise early and have your 100 goudes* ready. One reason is that many Haitians know the benefits of this delicious and nutritious fruit. The second reason is that if you find a corossol tree, you typically only see a small amount of fruit hanging. The sources I found note shy-bearing of only 12-24 fruits produced per tree. *A decent sized corossol will typically sell for 50-100 goudes, $1.25-2.50.

So the next time you're in Haiti, keep your eye out for this impressive fruit. And don't forget to swing by the guesthouse so we can whip you up a fresh glass!

[This is a post I wrote for FHM's blog.] What kind of host would I be if I didn't give you a tour of where I live and work? Managing the guesthouse is one of my primary roles with FHM.

The Nancy Ferree-Clark Guesthouse is located in Leogane, Haiti along Route Nationale #2 and is named in honor of the Reverend Nancy Ferree-Clark, now pastor at Federal Way United Methodist Church in Auburn, Washington. Nancy was former Associate Dean of Duke University Chapel in Durham, NC, and served for 18 years as pastor of the Congregation at Duke Chapel. The Congregation at Duke Chapel, along with Duke Chapel, helped raise the funds to build the guesthouse. And my, what a beautiful house it is!!

Our guesthouse can sleep up to 24 guests, each of the bedrooms has an ensuite bathroom. My favorite part of the house is the big open living and dining area next to a spacious kitchen. And of course I love the wraparound porch! A great place for catching that appreciated Caribbean breeze! The house comes complete with 24/hr security, wifi, and even A/C for several hours each day.

Enjoy this photo tour...

While we're at it, I'll go ahead and give you a peek at my bedroom too. I love it!

And I will give you a proper introduction to our staff in upcoming blog posts soon. But you might as well get to know this lady immediately—Yvette is our cook! When you come see us, she will be joyfully preparing your meals. She puts out a delicious feast for us each day. You won't go hungry... in fact... you'll have to work extra hard while you're here so you don't gain a few pounds. :)

About Me

Blog Archive

Popular Posts

Hope For Life Children's Home

Some Great Links