Some…times…in Ayiti…

It’s been awhile since I’ve felt the need to use that phrase.  We used it a lot last summer when we had an intern and another volunteer working on a microcredit project.  We had been here before, but not long-term.  We were learning a lot about life and culture and well, stuff, in Haiti.

When one of us had an experience out of the ‘norm’ or something weird happened, one of the staff at the orphanage would launch into, “Some…times in…Ayiti….” followed with an explanation of why that thing had just happened. 

Today, I got to use it again! 

I forgot my computer cord at the apartment this morning.  I was a little scattered and sad because my dear friend Erin was leaving after having spent five days here with me.  We had to leave for the airport at 6:45, and I just couldn’t get myself all the way together like usual.  So at 9:30 Pierre and I left Maison to go grab the cord.  We were about a block from the orphanage when I heard a loud “thunk!” at the back of the van.  We were going very slowly, and I didn’t see anything, I thought maybe a bird had flown into the van or something.  As we drove about 10 yards farther, I saw a man sitting in the lane where we had just driven.  I said, “Pierre!  I think we hit that guy, or he hit the van or something!  Is he hurt?  We should check!”  So Pierre backed up a bit, and two other men came over to the van and said Pierre had hit the guy.  It was impossible for that to have happened though, because where he was, we would have literally had to drive OVER him and that had NOT happened.  The man who had been sitting in the road didn’t seem concerned, and never came over or said anything at all.  Here’s my professional take on the situation:  The man was running across the street, we were not going very fast, he didn’t see us or thought we were going faster than we were, and he ran smack into the side of the van, effectively stunning himself and forcing him to plop in the middle of the road. 

Once we got over the shock of being run into by a human being, we laughed like crazy people.  When we got back to the orphanage, I couldn’t wait to tell the story again, except I was laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe.  I eventually managed to choke out, “Sometimes, in Ayiti…”