After about two and a half weeks of vacation in the states (and Germany) I arrived back in Haiti on Sunday morning. I had an early morning flight from Miami. For those who have never been to Haiti, the craziness begins in the Miami airport. The boarding time for this flight is 20 minutes earlier than any other flight, domestic or international, that I have ever been on. People are shoving the largest carry-ons I've ever seen into overhead bins. Women with large woven bags full of who-knows-what are trying to shove them under the seat in front of them without breaking anything. The ones taking their time shoving stuff places don't seem to understand the flight attendants asking them to please hurry along. After the first few times I took this flight it became less frustrating and more comical. Knowing what to expect makes it a little funnier...a little.
The Haiti airport used to terrify me. It was a lot jankier than it is now. They've done some wonderful renovations in the last few months making it seem like a legitimate airport, but it used to be the scariest place in Haiti for me. You used to have to walk down this long sidewalk without knowing for sure if someone would be waiting for you at the end. If there wasn't anyone you would have to sit on your bags outside the airport where dozens and dozens of people were milling about. Your mind begins to play tricks on you and all the "Dangers of the Third World" portrayed by certain American news channels begin to roll around in your mind. When I arrive back in Haiti now I am not nearly as nervous as I used to be. I have a phone and know multiple people to call if my ride was delayed. If that fails, I know enough Creole to get a ride to my school and I know the area well enough to know if my driver is taking me there or someplace else.
Thankfully, I have always had a ride and Jill was there right on time to pick me up. We drove over the potholes, down the crazy roads, past the women selling their wares on the street, beside the pig eating from the pile of trash in the middle of the road, along the roads, every one of which is lined with walls of all shapes and sizes....walls everywhere.
It felt like home. This is normal. Driving 20 miles an hour because any faster will take off your wheels when you hit a pot hole (not "if," "when"). The sights, smells, and sounds assault your senses, but after 18 months it isn't new, exciting, or scary, it is familiar. The quiet I heard in America, the smooth roads and the clean air, while refreshing, was unfamiliar. It didn't feel like I was home. I was visiting. I was on vacation.
I've never lived in a place so different from my "normal" for so long. It's a weird feeling that is difficult to explain. It's strange that I am weirdly comforted by the horns and yelling on the street....unless it's after 9 pm of course. This all makes the transitions from Haiti to America and back again difficult and unsettling. Its almost like having two homes and it's weird.
Those are my musings for the current moment, thanks for reading. We've had two days of the new semester. The students seem ready to be back, albeit a little groggy from the break. It's nice to see them and nice to get back into the routine of the school week. It should be an exciting semester so check back for (hopefully) more frequent updates.
