Well, I’m back. I still don’t believe it, at least not entirely. Haiti has been my life for the past 5 weeks, and I’ve been drop-kicked into the land of air-conditioning and giant grocery stores. Not gonna lie, I may have shamelessly binged on fresh fruit and salad… I also may have responded to a sales clerk in Kreyol the other day. Whoops.

Being in the US is weird. But nonetheless, I’ve had a bit of time to give some thought to my time in Haiti- more than just missing waking up to roosters, I mean. So, here’s a bit of what I’ve learned. Before I start, I want to say capital T Thanks. Not sure if my ramblings have been read, or if I’m just talking to the vastness of the Interwebs, but Thanks to everyone who’s supported me. Thanks for at least pretending to be interested, and please, keep asking questions about Haiti: in case you haven’t noticed, I love to talk about it!

Now, without further ado:

10 Lessons I’ve Learned in Haiti (this time around)

1. Eat to live, don’t live to eat

I didn’t realize how much of a foodie I was until I lived on rice and beans, spaghetti with ketchup, and legume (cooked vegetables). It was rough as someone who loves to cook and who eats a borderline ridiculous number of fresh fruits and vegetables. Yet, I learned to appreciate what we had. We ate VERY well by Haitian standards, and a couple of weeks taught me that even freaking rice and beans is a gift, a privilege, and a welcome source of nutrition in a country where so many wonder where their next meal will come from.

2. There is somewhere in the world that values politeness more than the Midwest!

And that place is Michaud. Everyone says hello on the street (if you don’t, it’s considered tremendously rude). They bring out chairs when you come to visit, even if it’s just for a few moments. Even if they’re the only chairs they own.

3. Sometimes a name is enough to dispel a stereotype

The little kids in the neighborhood would yell ‘blan’ (white) whenever we passed. But after a week or so, they came up and asked us our names. They met me at Ecole Shalom. The yelling continued…but it was different. “Wenata!” they’d call, running up to grab my hand and play in the street. They taught our names to the kids in the neighborhood. In that time, we went from being nameless outsiders to real people who were part of their lives. Just walking around the neighborhood was one of my favorite things to do.

4. On a related note, kids love nothing more than hearing their own name out loud

And the relationship went two ways. When I’d ask a kid their name, they instantly got a little bit shyer. They’d mumble as if they were afraid you didn’t really want to hear it. But I’d always smile and repeat their name a few times, trying not to butcher it in the process. When that happened, their faces would light up. We were friends now- mutually invested in each other’s lives.

5. You are ALWAYS dependent on someone else in Haiti, which means that patience is ESSENTIAL!

I’m really terrible at being patient. Like unspeakably bad. But after 5 weeks of waiting for someone- a tap tap, my fellow interns, the one person who of course has the very thing you desperately need in order to do any work, the students who you’re supposed to teach (but who run on “Haiti time”)- I’d like to think I’ve developed at least a teeny tiny seed of patience.

6. Plans change. Nothing will happen the way you plan.

Roll with it. Things can work out, but when your resources are limited, you take what you can get. At the risk of speaking too generally, you can reach the same goal by taking different paths.

7. Attempting to speak any Kreyol gets you pretty far in terms of respect and friendship.

ESPECIALLY as a blan. In 5 weeks, I managed to get okay at understanding Kreyol. My speaking? Still marginally awful. Nonetheless, people would be SO surprised, yet so overjoyed when I spoke their language. Even if my grammar was terrible, or I butchered the pronunciation (like that one time I gave a cholera prevention talk in Kreyol), they were more than happy to listen (and to gently correct when I made a massive error). More importantly, speaking Kreyol to people made them feel free to TALK. It was a way to show people that you respect and value their opinion, and as such, speaking in Kreyol usually smoothed the way for stories and questions and peoples’ lives.

8. If you ask people what they need, they’ll tell you.

They know better than you do. We learned this during the Community Health Day, when we asked women from the neighborhood a variety of questions. What do your families need to be healthy and happy? What health questions did they have? How could HAC serve them better? Their answers were loud, clear, and almost entirely unanimous. Contrary to the stereotype, people in the developing world aren’t helpless or stupid or oblivious to the ways of the world. They have dreams and goals and plans for how to get there. You just need to ask them!

9. Being funny is a, if not THE cardinal virtue in Haiti.

That’s the best thing anyone said in praise of their friends or family. “They’re funny”. But unfortunately for me, Haitians are not fluent in sarcasm. I’ve tried. They didn’t get it, which just made me feel silly and strange. It’s a shame, too, because I had a great line for people who would call me blan on the street…

10. Happiness is a choice. Praise is an attitude, and sometimes it’s the only way to go.

This is something that I can best explain with my experience in church. Going to church in Haiti is a party! And I say that without the slightest trace of sarcasm. Despite living in one of the poorest countries in the world, people praise with their whole being! All smiles and dressed to the nines, they shout to the rafters. They pray with their whole body and soul. They give, even when they can’t afford to.

It’s a beautiful attitude, one that I’ve tried to adapt and hope to maintain, even in my privileged life in the US. Despite the hardships, there are joys to be found in life in Haiti.

Grace a Dieu, today, I am alive. I have eaten and slept with a roof over my head. I am surrounded by family and friends. I am in good health. I am free to pray and to praise. Today, as every day, life is good.