Hello from Haiti!

There is a concept here of "no-go". No money, no go. No Creole, no go. Blanc time is a no-go. Blanc is not just a skin-color, it's a state of mind and blanc time is no go on an island. All time is fluid and island time is practically non-existent. 3 minutes Haitian is about 45 minutes blanc. Schedules are no-go. It's very relaxing, actually. Paying the asking price is no-go, but I seem to FAIL at bargaining no matter what. No horn, no go.

My uncle says the leading cause of death of long-term missionaries is car acidents. I believe it. There are no lane dividers or speed limits. Tap-taps, motorcycles, and vans all jockey for position on the road. There are a LOT of potholes. Potholes the size of cars, more than a foot deep. Drivers swerve like Mel Gibson to avoid them while answering cell phones. Corners are taken blind with a series of warning honks. Oncoming traffic is just another obstacle to dodge. If there are rules for right of way, I do not understand them. Nor do I wish to do more research. If you want to get closer to your Maker, pile into the back of a passenger van, crowded with luggage in the back so there's no visibility, find a one late dirt mountain road without guardrails, and wait for an oncoming Mack truck.

I am having so much fun!

The children we've seen, it's obvious that someone is taking care of them, whether it's their families or the folks at the orphanages. I know that there are desperate kids out there, but we've yet to see them because our movements inside Port au Prince were very limited due to safety concerns. We see a lot of school kids in their homemade uniforms. Some of them smile and wave and sometimes they walk up with an open hand and say "give me one dollar". The children at the primary school here are charming and adorable. The children at the secondary school are more suspicous of us and reluctant to talk. Except for a few teenage boys because, as we know, teenage boys are the same everywhere.

I want to cry every time I see a dog here. No home, no family, no one to love them. Cats can survive without much affection or human interaction, but dogs love differently. On the road north, the most pathetically skinny puppy wandered around the streets. It was small, with a wiry little tail it kept curled all the way underneath it. Josef fed him his leftovers and it was still fearfil and submissive, ears pinned back and shaking.

Nobody loves these dogs.