"What did you bring me from Miami?"

I did not understand this question at first. For Haitians "Miami" refers to the all the land in that gap between the Rio Grande and the 49th parallel. Although I hail from Seattle I've grown accustom to telling acquaintances "mwen soti Miami." Some have taken the time to tell me "giving children present breed dependency!!" The Haitians, however, in the midst of grinding poverty have shown me kindness, hospitality, and often given me gifts. Reciprocating their generosity, be it some what prodded, seemed anything but creating dependency.

Before I could give away the gifts from Seattle (Northern Miami) I needed wrapping. To help me, I enlisted Erline, Jidline and Marie-Phila. I sketched the names and designs on little bags while they enliven them with color. Each girl's style was distinct. Marie-Phila, fill the pages with splashes of color, while Erline highlighted the lines already drawn. Jidline often filled the space outside the block letters.

For food, I decide to incorporate wheat bran. One measure of bran is a tenth the cost of a measure of flour, but the Haitians are convinced humans can't eat it. I used a bran muffin recipe to get the proportions for the batter, but deviated considerably. Cinnamon, cloves, and all-spice all added hints of favor, but it was the two-thirds cup of fresh ginger that really made it interesting. Finally a thick layer of icing brought the sugar level to par with Haitian's sickly sweet standards.

With a sacks full of present and a cake in hand, I walked in to the common space between my friends houses. In my meek, stilted Kreyol I explain to the crowd of children the surprise party I had prepared. With my speech failed to elicit the slightest response among the children, Bea age 22, stepped in and began barking orders to her little cousins, nieces, and nephews. "Stephy lamp! Yvania tablecloth! Jean table! Danny, Peter, David chairs!" In the matter of 40 seconds all had been assembled. 15 children sat silent, hands folded in a perfect semi-circle 20 feet from the table and Bea. Fearing my party was beginning to resemble a business seminar I invited the children up to take their presents. Again not a muscle flinched, but after a few short words from Bea, the kids crept up and began opening their gifts. Soon everyone was jumping around and enjoying themselves. As exciting as they found the gifts, this joy was surpassed by the digital camera. For a Haitian child there is no greater joy than having an eternal record of silly faces they once made or the articles they once had stuffed up their noses.

My first conversation back.

"How was your Christmas Jidline?"
"We didn't do anything."
"Well did you get any gifts?"
"none."
"How is your familly doing?"
"my uncle died."

Homecoming

At home I walked in the night seeking out old friends, especially the eight year old Marie-Phile, who I tutor in the evenings and who is my best friend in Haiti. In the darkness, Marie-Phila stealthily approached me from the side as I talk with others. She waited silently for me to turn in her direction before jumping up and hugging me. As I held her she told me how a little boy had spread a rumor that I had return some days ago and hadn't come to see her, and how anger she had been with me after hearing this, and how she found out that it was a lie, and how happy she was that I was back for real. Not letting go, we set out for Jidline's house With Marie clinging to my front in a marsupial like posture. As we neared the gate, Marie's little cousin Ken ran up, insisted on coming. Adding little Ken on my shoulder I carried them both up the hill to Jidline's.

5 minute overview

Aeroport Toussaint L'Ouverture lies thirty miles off the south coast of Haiti. Yet I felt the captain begin his descent just we came over the northern most extremity of the island. The entirely of this island of 9 million passed in the time it took me to drink my coffee. As we slowed the treeless red hills came into focus, as did brown streams bleeding Haiti’s topsoil out into the sea. Over the Gulf of Gonave indiscernible flecks of white slowly materialized into sailboats as we neared the ocean's surface. Lurking beneith the water sandbars stretched out like tentacle holding fast freighters ensnared long ago. In a blink the soothing azure blue gave way to scorched earth and rotting shacks of the capital's slums.