Yes, Haiti, there's a new white girl in town!

That's what I felt like shouting out today, anyway.

After finally getting the okay, I ventured out for a walk, on my own. I let Sisi, one of the house moms, know so she didn't have a minor panic attack thinking I went missing. She gave me a look and I had to assure her I had gotten the okay. Her words: be smart. Very reassuring.

I'm not gonna lie. I was kind of scared. And I only use the words "kind of" to try to mellow down the fact that I actually WAS really nervous. I was nervous for several reasons. It wouldn't be hard to get lost here. There are few street signs (my street doesn't have one), the roads go whichever direction they want, and everything looks the same. Two: I get *really* irritated when people catcall at me. Three: they are *crazy* drivers and I will be surprised if I leave Haiti with no accidents under my belt. And it didn't help my nerves that just a few weeks ago, a gun was pulled on an American for her camera. In Haiti, white skin means money. Lesson learned: take nothing with me when I'm out by myself.

As I stepped out on my street and shut the gate behind me, I was smiling. I felt a little free! That smile quickly changed as I turned off my street. Over the past few years, I've worked hard to get rid of my intimidating facial expressions that say, "back off." At first I struggled. Do I be smiley American? Or Jamie with an unwelcoming face. It became quickly clear that the wise decision would be a hard face. So having no idea where I was going, I made a sure stride, staring forward, trying to come off as if this were normal for me. Three kids approached me. The first thing they said was, "money?" I had to laugh. I almost felt bad for them, wasting their time, trying to get this American girl's money. For one, I had no money on me. Two, I have no money. It's been quite the joke, the men who flirt to see if I give money when I probably have less money to my name than they do. This American girl is not worth anything monetarily.

I chatted with the boys for a little ways, and honestly, I wish they would have stayed with me the whole way. Then came all the comments. I realized that I'm probably going to develop a thick skin here. I kind of want to puke every time someone makes kissy noises at me. Bleh. No thank you. I think it's funny when they call out "blanc," "white" at me. All in all, after half an hour, I made my way back to my street. This house is home to me. As I was approaching the home, I heard the familiar shouts and laughs of our kids. I could identify Yolette by her laugh and Robert by his crazy voices. I definitely felt like I was coming home. When they unlocked the gate for me, they made jokes (or maybe they weren't joking) about being glad I was back. Four or five of the children asked me, "is okay? is okay?" Maybe they were worried that the bottoms of my legs were actually green.

As I walked some of the streets of Haiti, images I had initially seen, I continue to see. I think one of the hardest things that is all too common is the small child wandering the street with merely a shirt that is too small for him. A mere t-shirt. No pants or underwear even. It makes me want to take shorts with me on my walks to hand out when I see the need.... I do look forward to seeing familiar faces as I get out more and making acquaintances, and even friends.

I'm getting tired (at 9pm!). Thanks for sharing with me in my triumphant success at my first venture out alone. :-)