Chapter 2 – The Tribe

On the first day of my new assignment in Haiti I became friends with the neighbors. At my previous Haitian home, there were several villages close by, so finding new friends was not a problem, one just had to go a few yards from the house and there were plenty of people. At L’Acul, I asked where the village was and found out that there really wasn’t a village per se, but scattered homes along the beach and up the mountainside. I decided to concentrate on the beach families in order to stay off of main highway #2 that was dangerous and noisy. Rubenson and Chelene were my first tour guides up and down the beach. Rubenson (or Sonn) was only 9 years old but undoubtedly street smart. He had a voice like a megaphone and a huge smile. His head and hands were covered with scabies, which he promptly shared with me by holding my hand! He is fortunate to be living in a nice cement block chalet that belongs to a rich business woman from Port au Prince. He shares the house with a little stepsister named Cindia, 2 stepmothers, and his father who is the caretaker. He sleeps in the hallway on a piece of carpet. To earn a living, his father, St. Robert, fishes the bay in a small dugout with a homemade black sail. He is very thin and is often drunk. I learned early that Rubenson was a survivor! He could not read or even write his name. He had been enrolled in school but rarely went. No one seemed to care about this little boy. He would become on of my special friends.

Chelene was 15, yet she liked to hold my hand when we would take walks. She has skin the color of dark chocolate and a smile that would melt snow. I learned that she is an orphan who has lived in her Aunt Monique’s house since she was 2 years old. Her father is buried nearby in the little cemetery where we buried Mariloud. She has yet to complete the 6^th grade in school. Chelene is the girl in “My Fair Lady,” rough but with potential. Her voice is loud and coarse and she often slaps other kids up side the head for no reason. She and Rubenson seem to have an unusual bond, perhaps because they both feel alone in this world.

Before the first month was up, I met what I now call “the lost children of the beach,” a tribe if you will, just trying to survive. Most live in homes with only a mother, some without any parent at all. I have met only two fathers, one is a drunk and the other has another family he supports down the beach. Most of these kids are related in one way or another. They may have all had a connection to Mariloud.

Esteve, Dutchi, and little Pushli are half brothers and sister with 3 different fathers and a mother who spends time in jail and who abandons them for weeks at a time. The oldest is only 8 and their house is located near the busy highway. I first saw Pushli when he was about 1 year old. He was naked, as is usually the case in Haiti, and was moving around on all fours like a puppy. He crawled through the dirt and began crossing a narrow plank over a ditch filled with dirty runoff water. I said to his mother Marirose, “he could fall in that water and drown.” She agreed, but went back to her business and did nothing. Many times over the next months, I would find myself feeding these children and giving them medicine. They, too, were part of this lost tribe of children that God saw fit to bring my way.

Dieunese and her brothers Nelson, and Dieutson have big grins and seem blissfully happy all the time. Kenya is only six, has no front teeth, and likes to snuggle. She has an entire family: mother, father, brother, and sister. Her sister is Minoushka and her brother’s name is Luckson. Other kids in the beach tribe are Roostania, Joubert, Djvenska, and Rodney. Altogether there are 33 of them!

All these kids are woefully behind in school, not at all their fault. Haitian schools are inadequate to say the least, with underpaid and undereducated teacher and no supplies. Parents have a hard time paying for school, let alone for books, paper, uniforms, and shoes. It is a miracle when any poor Haitian child ever makes it through high school, let alone any other higher education. Many have to walk long distances or pay to take public transportation, which amounts to a ride in the back of a pick-up truck. Many Americans feel they have contributed to the education system of Haiti by sending back packs, crayons, and notebooks, but what Haitian schools really need is more financial support for teachers and far better school buildings. I can only imagine my own children and grandchildren getting motivated to learn and achieve while sitting on a wooden bench in a cement block room that has never been plastered, let alone painted. Most schools are dusty and hot. The school books are only 20 page paper pamphlets. This is the curriculum for the whole year. There are few pictures or photographs to spark a child’s imagination. So it was God that laid it upon my heart to start a library at L’Acul.

The library, bibliotek, started after I solicited some books and magazines from visitors to L’Acul. The kids came on Wednesday afternoons and we met in the palm leaf chacoon that I had built in the garden. We had two benches and a small Haitian school desk and a Rubbermaid container full of printed material. It was exciting to watch the kids look at the colorful pictures. They were enthralled. They often asked me if it pictures in a magazine were of me.

After a few weeks we had so many kids that I divided them into two time groups so everyone could have a seat. By then the kids had become acquainted with every book. The boys liked the animal and car pictures and the girls liked the people ones. They loved “Ï Spy” if I played with them. Each vied for my attention—there wasn’t enough Miss Kathy to go around! Of course, I loved that! And I realized I would have to draw the line on the attendance at library, thus the 33 Beach Kids. (Others in a different area wanted to come, but Haitians can be very “tribal” in that they keep family intact and outsiders out). I found myself with a group that was to become very much like my own kids for a while.

I have been asked many times why I do not take in more kids. I realized a long time ago that it is not possible to help everyone in need. I would wear out fast, and I would not be much good to anyone. I chose to work with this group of kids who were already a group, ages from 3 to 18, living so close they take baths together every evening in the fresh water stream outside our gate. My life continues to be changed by the lives of these kids. By December, we have decided to put on a Christmas play for the church!

(To be continued).