I am a horrible blogger.
I hope to God when I want to publish a book they don't tell me, "Do a blog first so we can see that we have something to work with."
I should have kept you up to date with all the stories that I will never forget. Christmas in Haiti. Making it snow for the kids. Handing out gifts to children in the tent city. Hearing Pastor Luc's experience during the earthquake. Having the kids act out for me what they experienced during the earthquake. Youseline's progress.
I suppose you'll have to wait for the book. But until then, I'll leave you with my last story of Haiti. The one where I had to say goodbye.
Remember how I was yellow? After the prodding of many, and having lost 20 lbs and being so hungry I would eat anything (other than rice and beans) and craving a good shower, I decided it would be best to head back to the states. A couple girls, Liz and Gina, game to deliver Christmas goods to the kids and visit, so I ended up flying back with them, just before Christmas. I went to the doctor first thing when I came back. The doctor peeked in at me and asked if I had had a TB test. When I said no, she came back in with a mask. I felt so disease-ridden. Not to mention I had just been around hundreds in the plane and at the airport, so here's hoping I didn't have some hyper-contagious disease. No TB. It turned out to be Hepatitis A.
See, I was kind of dumb before I went to Haiti. I didn't check into the vaccinations and such I should have before going. I just trusted what I was told. That malaria meds would be the only thing really, but it wouldn't do much good since I would be there for a long time. Dumb.
If I weren't dumb, I would have found out to get a Hep A vaccination, along with typhoid, and a pre-rabies shot. This is what the Center for Disease Control told me when they called to make sure they would have to put out some urgent quarantine.
Remember when I was bent over the tub, plunging, sweating, in the dark with only my headlamp on? And it splashed my face? Welcome Hep A.
I will say, however, that I was right. I was fine, pretty much. Not dying like a lot of people seemed to think. And I won't ever get it again. Just be warned: if you go to Haiti, get a Hep A vaccination and whatever else they tell you to get!
So that's why I went home. I was supposed to go back to Haiti a month or month and a half later and stay until August. I ended up going back for just a few days, to say goodbye.
It was horrible. Those kids dug into my heart, attached claws, and won't let go. I knew I would miss them, but I figured it would die down. It hasn't. I can't eat peanut butter without thinking of all the peanut butter sandwiches I ate with them. French no longer belongs to the French. It belongs to the Haitian kids whom I helped when they were doing their French homework. I can't say "Hey you," without thinking of Youseline, who we called Yuse-yuse. Hey yuse-yuse. My arms feel empty without her. I hear Yolette's laughter in my head, Kimberly's sassy remarks, Kenlie's dancing, and not only is their grip on my heart, but touch my wrist, and my mind will automatically go to all the times they pulled on my wrists. "Mami Jamie, Mami Jamie." There were times I hated the grips on my wrist and would hold my hands up in the air. They thought it was funny. What I wouldn't give for a grip on the wrist now.
I was there for Valentine's Day. It was the loveliest Valentine's Day of my life. I handed out candy hearts, telling them what they said, and made sure they knew they were the loves of my life. The few days I was there, I spent playing with the kids, and retiring in the evenings to a hotel just around the corner and was able to cry away from the kids. When I would come back in the morning, they'd all give me a scowl because I hadn't stayed the night there, at their home, at what they knew to be my home too. A week since I've returned, and tears still come to my eyes.
The days went by fast, and before I knew it, I was leaving. I kissed and hugged all of them and said goodbye. I got into Edy's car to go to the airport.
My last memory is this:
Banging on the gate to get back inside to see one of the kids, and asking, "Do you know that I love you a lot and will think of you every day? Do you know that?" "Yes Mami Jamie." And it's finished.
I think perhaps I'm not ready to share a lot of stories about those last 3 days because I hold them sacred in my memory.
In any case, my time in Haiti is done, for now.
C'est la vie. Se lavie.
