In the Clutch (2013)

2013 Aug 21

Coming back to Haiti is always interesting. At least for me, some transformation happens, involuntary and largely unnoticed by myself until lately. Doesn’t matter what you’re dealing with back in the States or what internal struggle you have raging in your heart and/or mind; Haiti trumps all that. She demands your full attention the moment you deplane and are enveloped in an atmosphere of swelteringly hot air and loud, unreasonably cheerful music. I can crawl onto a plane in Nashville or New Orleans, heart (figuratively) bleeding out, and by the time I walk through immigration and out into the parking lot’s blinding light, the wounded animal is largely replaced by a swaggering, Creole-mangling director. Or as our plumber cutely puts it: directress. You’ll hear more about Boss Ernst in a minute.

 It’s not just that you know you’re here to minister and administer to people struggling with all manner of ills, not just that there’s buildings to be built, programs to be grown, local friends to be  empowered, work crews to manage. Not just that you want to see the pregnant ladies as they saunter down the path from our gate to be weighed and given food and prenatal vitamins. Not only that you are curious about the next water project. Not only that you know there are more, more people who need. And not even that there’s an infuriatingly cute dog waiting to greet you when you open the truck door. It’s that you have to be ready. For anything. It’s the 4-6 lanes of barely moving traffic on a two lane road, a wreck that horrifyingly involves not two vehicles but a vehicle and a person, a store not being open when you expected and no one else sells that precious item needed for construction an hour’s drive away, a broken down 18-wheeler between you and the turn, or a herd of pigs heading to market. It’s the mental exercise of navigating 3 currencies, 2.5 languages and no traffic laws. It’s a tire that rotates off the axle because of sheared lug nuts or a clutch that stops working.

Today it was the clutch. Luckily, we were already in Thomazeau surrounded by friends. We rolled the truck to the side (yes we missed the stone wall) and were preparing to put yours truly and luggage on a motorcycle to go the last couple miles to the Live Beyond base. Luckily for me and perhaps unluckily for him, our plumber Ernst drove up in his little truck-like vehicle with a working clutch. He graciously and with a smile allowed his vehicle to be comandeered by us. I don’t know why it was so amusing to the folks of Thomazeau to see me in the front seat of that little truck, barely 6 inches off the ground, and my luggage sitting in the open-air backseat like tourists. But it was mightily amusing to them. So we laughed, let the already-playing Bob Marley CD provide our theme music and I waved the Homecoming Queen wave through the open window as the truck bounced to Marley’s rhythm through town. Me with my travel hat and long sleeved black zip-up. Our security guard laughed as he jogged back to the gate when he realized it was me and not the plumbing crew. Even the dog was surprised.

Haitians have a phrase they invariably attach to any future tense sentence. When they speak of tomorrow (demen) they always tack on the phrase, si Dieu vle.  Literally, it means “if God wants.” In the US South, we say “God willing” but it’s commonly used with a sardonic tone. Not so here. In Haiti, you never hear “demen” without “si Dieu vle” spoken as a matter of fact.It rolls together like a single word. “See you tomorrow” becomes “a demen si Dieu vle.” This little acknowledgement of God’s sovereignty and demonstration of dependence on Him is simple and profound at once. Much like Haiti.

Following God always results in a grand adventure whether it’s in a foreign country, your own town or some mix of the two. If you listen and keep saying yes, He’ll simultaneously equip you and reward you by removing fatigue and adding swagger or teaching your tongue new languages. He’ll bring people into your life at just the right time who impart new wisdom or debunk personal myths. He lets you feel the squeeze of a little boy’s arm around your neck and hear a whispered, “I love you.” He’ll teach you to not take yourself so seriously and see the humor in nearly everything.

Thanks, Ernst, for the ride today. I’ll see you tomorrow, si Dieu vle.