The Most Excellent Saturday Before Christmas

In order to describe yesterday, I need a really awesome intro.  I don’t have one because I’m just too excited to write about the rest of the day so I will not forget a detail.

Ruth is on a campaign to get us (especially me) ready for a break and home time.  No talking about work outside of work, unless I bring it up.  After a wine and cheese dinner Friday night, we started our Saturday with breakfast at the restaurant.  It was the last Saturday before Christmas, you see!  After delicious coffee, eggs and bacon for Ruth, French toast for me, we headed to Maison to have a Skype date with a family who couldn’t come in December for a bonding trip.  They had FedExed stockings for their kiddos.  I wish there were a way to describe the pure joy on all four faces when Skype connected them.  They didn’t care about presents; they were just excited to see each other.  There are so many spiritual implications in all of that, but I’ll save that for another time.  The kiddos opened their gifts, spent time with their family, and passed out candy canes to all the other children and nannies.  It was a precious time for Ruth and I, and I know it was for the family as well.

The bride

Ruth and I decided that we must do some shopping, since it was the Saturday before Christmas.  The traffic on Rue de Delmas screamed, “CHRISTMAS SHOPPERS”, or maybe it was just my imagination.  We had the usual boys wanting to clean the car while we waited in traffic.  One approached and started wiping the hood. “No mesi,” I said, and he went on his way.  The next one was not to be deterred.  Despite my repeated protests, and telling him I was not paying him, he continued to do the entire car.  The ENTIRE car, roof included.  You see, as I was slowing driving away, he hopped on the back bumper and continued cleaning.  The roof, the spare tire on the back, the other side of the roof.  The entire car.  He came to the window and held out his hand.  I said, “No, I told you I wasn’t paying you.  I told you no.”  He proceeded to wipe down the side of the car again, hopping up on the back as I drove away again.  By this time, our tap tap neighbors saw what was going on.  They seemed to enjoy the exchange, and repeated out loud what I was saying in Creole.  It was kind of funny.  Finally, the boy jumped off the car after Ruth stuck her head out and said, “Timoun! Descend!

We inched our way closer to our destination.  What was our destination?  We didn’t actually know.  We had stopped at the Apparent Project, but no one was there to help us do our Saturday before Christmas shopping.  We saw a man chopping a donkey into pieces for meat, immediately followed by a bride, coming down the stairs after her wedding.  We laughed at the huge contrast of scenes, and continued on.

We drove up through Petion-ville, to find that the huge tent city in the city park is no longer there!  It is now a park again, complete with mosaic fountains, people sitting and chatting, and boys riding bikes on the open space.  I was looking for a road that I knew had tons of metal artwork, paintings, and other Haitian handiwork for sale.

Flower gift

I went a different way through the city trying to find the road, and eventually the road narrowed, and became less commercial.  We began driving through a typical Haitian neighborhood, with women selling fruit, vegetables, and all kinds of things as they sat and chatted with each other and those walking by.  There were no other cars but I proceeded anyway.  We were having an adventure, after all.  The road continued to narrow, until finally it opened up in this beautiful open grove of trees.  It looked like Sherwood Forrest, tall leafy trees, everything shaded, people selling goods, children playing.  It was cool and quiet.  I felt like we had somehow warped into a different time and space.  The road was paved in plantain leaves.  Our tires hardly made a sound as we drove along.  I felt terrible for intruding with the car.  Some women spoke to Ruth as we drove past.  They said hello, God bless you, please leave; you know the whole gamut of remarks.  We made it out of the market area, and I could see the road I ultimately wanted to be on, up above.  I was asking God to please please please let this road be a through-road.  I did not want to get to the end and have to drive back through everyone again.  The road began to climb upwards, and I was praying that it connected to the road above.  Ruth was looking ahead, and said, “Don’t stop now.  Do not slow down, just keep going.”  The terrain was terrible, and if I had stopped or slowed down, we would have gotten stuck.  We reached the top and began cheering when we saw that we’d made it AND that we connected to the road I wanted to be on!

Leaving my mark on Haiti

We began ascending the hill, realizing we were on the road that led to the Baptist Mission.  We were going to turn around at the gas station, but once we got to the gas station, we decided to continue to the Baptist Mission, because it was only about 15 minutes farther.  We’d just do our Saturday before Christmas shopping there with our friend Simon!  Genius!

Ruth rescuing keys inside car

But then I looked at the temperature gauge.  Why did I look right then?  I don’t know.  It was at the beginning of ‘H’.  I went slower.  It crept up a bit.  I went faster.  It crept up a bit.  At a steeper part it went all the way to the end of ‘H’.  Ruth and I were in constant conversation about what to do.  We were on a steep mountain road.  There were no places to just pull off to the side.  My dad is a car man, mechanic, fix it guy.  My brother is too.  I was wondering what they would tell me to do.  I realized they would say, “Stop the bleeping car!”  As I decided on this course of action, suddenly something went “Bfftplmpfff!!!” followed by a “sssssssssss”, while I watched the temperature gauge zing back to normal.  Ruth and I agreed something had happened, but we decided it must be ok, because the temperature was normal again, and the sound we heard belonged to someone else’s car.  A minute later, the sound was louder and there were no cars around.  I knew I had to stop.  I’ll let you find the God-moments in this next part.  Suddenly, the road widened enough for us to pull over.  I pulled up onto the sidewalk (yes, the sidewalk…on a mountain road, in Haiti).  We sat there for a moment, and watched the steam begin to escape from under the hood.  I called my trust-worthy friend David, who said I needed to very carefully remove the radiator cap with a large rag, so as not to ‘burn my face off’, and then add a gallon of water.  Um, ok.  My water bottle had Gatorade in it, and there was about eight ounces left.  Not going to work. So I told Ruth, “I’ll just go ask that guy up there for some water.”  I got out of the car, locked the door, and slammed it shut.  Ruth did the same.  I turned and said, "Um, I think I left the keys in the car."  Ruth quickly verified that I had, but thankfully the back was open, and she climbed into the front and rescued the keys.  

Caution! Branch in car!

As I walked away and over onto the sidewalk, I began to sink, and my steps were difficult to take.  I looked down to find myself walking in wet cement.  Really?  Yes really, as my flip-flops will still show today.  We continued up the hill, and reached a man who had a small roadside car wash.  Yes, he had water.  He scooped a few gallons out and handed me the five-gallon bucket.

Fix it man under the hood

Ruth and I trekked back down to find we had nothing to hold the radiator cap with.  I dumped the contents of my canvas bag out, and as I turned, the car wash man appeared to help.  He removed the cap and began pouring water in.  The water poured right back out near the back of the engine.  He declared it fixed, and told me to turn the car on.  I did, and steam poured out, along with the rest of the water.  He quickly found the busted hose, and said he couldn’t fix it.  I gave him $10, thanked him, and called Jackson, my trusty go-to guy friend who can fix anything and drives us all over man.  I explained using my vast knowledge of Creole, that the hose for the water in the car was broken, and I told him it said, ““Bfftplmpfff!!!” followed by a “sssssssssss”.  He said he was coming.  I knew how long it had taken us to get to where we were, and I knew we were in for a wait.  A sweet little girl came and picked flowers for us.  People walking by commented on the broken car, or said hello.  Ruth worked on the Haitian sign for 'Broken down vehicle-CAUTION!' (a branch stuck in the back of the car). 

Jackson checking the car

Suddenly, the car wash man returned with a friend.  This friend had a small wire, pliers, flat-head screwdriver, and an adjustable wrench.  He assured us he could fix it.  My brother called from the States (he saw he had 2 missed calls from me) and I said, “Hey Matt, what does it sound like when your radiator blows?” (in my sweetest voice).  “Oh, Ang what did you do???” was the reply.  I quickly gave him a recap, and he said, “It’s your hose.  You need some duct tape, and even that might not work.”  I explained that the man was there with a wire and he was fixing it.  Matt laughed, and we hung up.

I turned to find the battery of the car out on the ground, and the man leaning wwaaaaaaayyyyyy under the hood.  After about 25 minutes, he proclaimed it “Fini!”  Ruth and I waited for Jackson to settle up with the man.  Jackson had talked with the guy, but I knew Jackson, so there was no leaving without his stamp of approval.  Jackson called and said, “Miss Angie, are you ok?”  after his initial conversation with fixing-man.  I assured him, yes, I was ok, and then got teary because he was genuinely concerned for us.

Waiting for Jackson

Two hours after making our initial phone calls, Jackson arrived to cheers from Ruth and I.  He checked the man’s handiwork, and satisfied, paid him $10.  I asked Jackson if this was why we kept 2 gallons of water in the back of the car.  He smiled and said, “Wi.”

We said goodbye to our friends who had stopped to say hi (they live 5 minutes away…but we didn’t know that as we stood there).

Attempted photo of the market 

We started the car and began the long descent into Petion-ville, carefully watching the temperature and not riding the brakes, lest they should overheat.  I wanted a picture of the market we had driven through, but it proved to be more difficult than anticipated.  As we entered Petion-ville, I followed the traffic weaving a different route home.  As we descended even further, I realized we were on the road I had initially been looking for!  “Ruth! We can do our Saturday before Christmas shopping because I found the road…5 hours later!!!!”  We laughed so hard at the crazy adventure-filled day we’d been blessed with!

We came to the metal and painting section and didn’t find anything, so we walked a little ways down the hill to the next section.  Here we found baskets.  Beautiful hand-made baskets.  I saw one for a baby.  My heart leapt, as I quickly estimated if Jean Marc would fit in it.  Ruth agreed he would, and I bargained with the salesman.  He wanted $25, which I would have paid if I had change.  I said $20, and he again said $25.  Ruth chose a beautiful breadbasket, and paid $5 for it.  I looked longingly at the baby basket, and the man agreed to $20.  Ruth told me this morning I looked like such a mom, buying that basket.  I began to walk away, beaming at my first Mom-moment, and Ruth pointed out the man weaving behind all the items.  I asked if he had made the basket, and he proudly said yes.  I explained that the basket was for my baby, and asked if I could take his picture.  H held the basket and I snapped the photo.  I showed him a picture of Jean Marc, who would be sleeping in the basket.  We all left the exchange beaming.

Basket maker

We continued down that road, which I thought would eventually take us home, until I realized we were parallel with Rue de Delmas.  I said, “Ruth, I think we’re headed downtown.”  She said, “Yep there’s Aristide’s tower.”  And sure enough, there it was.  I quickly turned right and headed in the direction of home.  We picked up the babies on the way home, enjoyed Hamburger Helper Cheesy Italian Shells for dinner, and fell asleep watching The Nativity Story.  This morning Ruth is making the pot-roast she thought she’d make yesterday (because we were going to be home in time to do that!), and we are rejoicing in the blessings of friendship and children, and God’s weaving of another story into our tapestry.