Bon Anniversaire

Today is my birthday. It has not quite gone as expected in every way possible.

Last night the power came back on at 9:00PM and lasted until 6:45 this morning.
I slept with the air conditioner on until I was cold. It was a glorious and seemingly auspicious start to my 28th year of existence.

After the group left this morning we attempted to go to the Orphanage to help out. I had this voice in the back of my head telling me that Thursday was the day that it was mostly closed to visitors. I turned out to be right; it is some sort of celebration day or religious holiday today throughout the city, though I am not clear why, but they have normal Mass for the kids on Thursdays anyway.

So, followed through on the secondary plan of going to the Hotel Montana, high above Port-au-Prince where you can stand on the terrace and see the view. We were driving in tight traffic up just below Petionville, the upper class area of the city, when we had to pull to a sudden stop. It was close for us, but the young woman who had been driving behind us, erratically and with her cellphone on her ear, ran smack into the back of us.

It’s funny how fluent you become in an argument.

The conversation went something like this:
Tifi: “Garde machin-m! Li te kom ca avant!” (Fidgeting with the now loose headlight).
Josh (very quickly, but calmly): “Mein ou te swi nou-menm two proche!”

En anglais:
Young Woman: “Look at my car! It wasn’t like this before!”
Josh: “But you were following us too closely!”

I was about to add “En plis, ou t’ap parle en cellulaire en memn temps!” (or, “Plus, you were talking on your cell at the same time!”), but I think she was equally stunned by the fact that mwen-menm, Mesiye Blan (I, Mister White-Guy) had shot out a complete and rapid fire string of Kreyol words to her, coupled with the fact that there was no way that it was our fault; she was tailgating us halfway up the road anyway and she knew it. So she left, obviously defeated. I feel bad for her now, because she could not have been any where over 18 years of age. I had a whole generation of car accidents behind me.

Triumphant, as no apparent damage to our car was seen, I got back into the car. It wouldn’t start. We waited about three minutes, not really panicking, but definitely concerned. It started finally, so we went on our way and stopped into a gas station to fill up a low tire. That was a mistake. The car stopped again and wouldn’t turn over. The next half an hour was a combination of battery replacements and pushing the car for clutch-starting. It finally worked and we made it home okay. Of course, the car would not restart once we got there.

Ted very quickly pointed out that after a), an accident, and b), a stalled car, that maybe we should not be going up to the Hotel Montana. Helene dismissed us as superstitious, which may be, but I still would like to think that we were stopped from going that way for a reason. What they may be, we may or may not know. Sadly, with the car in despair, we couldn’t stop at the market for Egg Nog, the one thing I wanted to drink on my birthday today. In the U.S., the stores only carry this delicious libation during the winter holiday season, but here it sits on the store shelves year round. I have drooled over the cans every time I go shopping. We also could not stop for tomatoes for the gigantes dish I was going to make since it is my favorite. Not quite what I was planning.

I tried to take a nap, but was interrupted three times for one reason or another: laundry was ready to be taken out, a key for this car needed here or there. So, no nap. The car was not fixed today, though the mechanic was already here when we arrived working on other vehicles. As suspected, there was something wrong with the starter.

We were supposed to go to some museum with Ted’s aunt, but something happened so we didn’t go anywhere in the afternoon. Not as expected.

We prepared late lunch at 3, so I did get some gigantes made, though without the can of butterbeans I had bought—the single remaining can of its type in the store—because the cook used them for rice and beans several days ago. The garbanzos and chickpeas were good, but not the same. We got in some major discussions about feminism and slavery and other assorted topics where I failed miserably in listening. I had been warned before my trip to speak little and to say much, but I have suddenly reached this point of not holding back. Modesty of speech on my birthday: absent. Not what I would have wanted.

Ted’s cousin Joel took us to Epidor, a French-style patisserie, for food. Having just eaten, all I really wanted was a crepe for my birthday. Joel thought that Ted and I had said “crème,” which is Kreyol for ice cream. Rather than make a big deal, I gladly ate it, but I still really wanted a crepe. I may go back. She really wanted to buy me a cake of some sort, but I am still mostly off sugar, though my diet here has turned most of nutrition efforts to dust. We insisted she not get one. She has paid for everything and I know she has no job here in Haiti. This is true sacrifice for your family and friends. My own daily selfishness, no matter how big or small, is made transparent by her hospitality.

So, I still really shouldn’t be disappointed with my birthday. Before it seems like the day has turned to ashes in my hand, I can point out so many amazing blessings: I am alive, I am in Haiti, my friends and family back home are checking on me, my friends and Ted’s family here are taking care of me, the fender bender could have been worse than it was.
I also rode in my first tap-tap taxi experience and it was really fun. Again, something I didn’t think I would ever do, but it was easy and fun enough to go again if we don’t have a car running. That was a new experience, and, like all new experiences, a time for growth. Most importantly, so many amazing things have happened in the last year. One year is a long time. So many experiences to go, si Bondye vle (God willing).