Fiddle by Fiddle

Fiddle by fiddle, this post came about.

Life moves at a much slower pace in Haiti. No one's in a hurry and everyone's relaxed. What can be accomplished in an hour can also be done in three. Last semester in Portland was hectic with school, work and recording, so it's it's been an enjoyable change of pace.

Arriving in Haiti, John, Deb and I found our yard filled with debris from a crashed tree uprooted the night before by a violent tropical storm. The large tree fell on our roof and, in the process, crushed the wall surrounding the yard. Tree limbs crashed through the windows above my parents bed, but my mom and dad weren't hurt. The roaring storm kept them awake, so they were away from window when the crash occurred. God's protection was so evident.

The next morning, my parents could hear loud chanting outside the gate. A mob of children and adults alike were jeering with excitement, as they do when their soccer team wins a match. Their joy had nothing to do with soccer, however . Instead, they were full of sinister delight, expecting to find my parents dead from the fallen tree. To understand our neighbors, you must know that most are into witchcraft and they're also extremely violent. For instance, just recently, some guys in the neighborhood murdered a man with a machete for alleged thievery. No evidence was found, however. It is believed that the victim was assassinated. With that said, it's nice knowing God's on our side.

After the surprise welcome of the fallen tree, the week moved at its usual pace - Haiti pace - and we relaxed. Well, as much as we could with the the sound of axes chopping up wood and hammers banging on the roof.

Our first trip to the beach was a lot of fun. We played a family game of volley ball and our competitive natures were unleashed. (My dad did his share of trash talking, too.) John and I hurled insults back and forth and used intimidation tactics, while dad threatened to use his secret weapon: the coffin corner. "Let's knock it into the coffin corner, Gabe" he tells me. "What does that mean?" exclaims my sister. (Deb was probably reminded of the time my dad used another ambiguous saying while playing putt-putt golf: "Shag it in, Deb. Just shag it in.") My dad decided to demonstrate the coffin corner in action instead of unveiling its full meaning in mere words. It proved effective, though our team work diminished. (Not that we had any to begin with. My dad and I like being the star players.)

In between games, John and I jumped in the ocean to cool off. We were soon pestered by a couple of naked Haitian kids who called kept calling, "Friends, friends!" They weren't sure what language we spoke, so they first tried Spanish and then French, hoping to communicate. When John finally revealed that he spoke Creole, he told them firmly, "You guys are enjoying. And you're not my friend." (Playfully, of course. You can only get so mad at naked kids, who seem totally comfortable and at peace with the world.) Surprised and startled, the kids began to quote from the Bible verses like "Love your enemies" to prove why John and I should be friends with them. "You're not my enemy either" John replied. We had an exchange of laughs. John then chased them around the beach.

The naked kids emerged once again during our second or third volley ball match. My dad, seeing them naked, told them sternly to "put some pants on!" I could see the kids didn't understand why they should, but out of respect and perhaps a bit of fear, fully clothed themselves. John's team won the last game, but dad and I had enough excuses to retain our egos.

By the next week, I had been to the pool a couple of times, hiked and spent time reading and such. Then came Christmas eve. We always open gifts on the night before Christmas because we have no patience and we're overly anxious to open our presents. My parents gave each of us a photo album with our name engraved on it, containing pictures of our early childhood. We had a lot of laughs, and John, Deb and I took turns making fun of one another.

Blessing. The word kept coming to me. Blessing. I am so blessed, I thought. My parents are alive, without a scratch, I received cool gifts, and I have God to thank. Thank you. Sincerely, thank you.

(This is the first post of my Christmas break in Haiti. More to come.)