"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.