by Elizabeth Foot
There is a carnival going on here and, I guess, just like the US, Saturdays are the night to go out. The music is amazing; exuberant and joyful. Those were the feelings I felt when I heard them going by my window, but at 4:45 am, I was not ready to return the love.
There is a carnival going on here and, I guess, just like the US, Saturdays are the night to go out. The music is amazing; exuberant and joyful. Those were the feelings I felt when I heard them going by my window, but at 4:45 am, I was not ready to return the love.
But
today I was. It’s Sunday: God’s Day. The Church service started at 7 am and
despite efforts to be there on time, we walked over around 8 am. The service
ended around 10:15 am—meaning it was hours longer than any service at Epiphany.
For those hours, I struggled to understand before giving up completely; anyone
sitting behind me would have seen me perk up at any words I knew and then watch
me put my head down again when I realized I’d have to wait a while before I
recognized anything else. Since my French speaking and hearing ability borders
decent, I was left to enjoy the service with all senses save comprehension. [Parts of the service are in Creole;
cognates may be few – Ed.] I saw how nicely everyone was dressed: the girls
and women were in dresses and bows, boys and men in dress suits and ties. They
swayed with the music of the chorale group—led by a women in a pale coral dress
and voice that filled the room. The acolytes surrounded the altar and one of
them spread incense. The toddlers were amazing, they just sat quietly with
their mothers. If they didn’t sit still, and one boy was running around the
whole time, it was outside.
I
learned after the service that the church was built on what used to be the
school’s basketball court. I also saw where the old church used to be, but now
it’s just cinder blocks and wire foundations; they are getting ready to rebuild
it. The only room that remains from the earthquake five years ago is a small
room off to the side, the sacristy. The room is in good shape but it looked
lonely sitting at the top of some steps and surrounded by grass covering the
old ruins. As Carol Hokana said “Those cinder blocks represent hope. They’re so
simple, but so strong.” I want to thank Carol for expressing what seems so
true.
As a
high school student, I am lucky enough to say this culture is a shock to me.
Yesterday, on our way from Port-Au-Prince to Leogane, we saw things you only
see in movies: pigs in the street, piles of burning trash, policemen patrolling
streets with intimidating guns. Yet the people seem hopeful, just as they were
at the church today. It’s incredible and I have really never seen anything like
it. All I could keep thinking was, as we were driving yesterday was, if there
were pigs, or cows, or goats roaming the streets in Boston, we would call
Animal Control to figure it out, or we would just run away. But here, people
and animals are living side by side (I don’t know if there is animal control or
not).
But
back to today! After lunch, we will be heading off on a
walking tour of Leogane. I’m excited to see the area as well as get some
exercise. I don’t know what exactly we will be seeing but that makes it all the
more interesting because, for some of the “returning varsity members”, they’ve
already seen it but it is my first time and my first impressions have yet to be
made.
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