When someone asked me on our way to the airport to leave Haiti—surrounded by the sun rising over the ocean, the green mountains, and small poverty-stricken huts—what my favorite part of my stay there was, I had no idea where to begin. The three weeks I spent on staff at a music camp in Haiti were some of the most rewarding, exhausting, fascinating weeks of my life. I’ve been in various music groups since I was little, but never have I been surrounded by such appreciative, eager, and charming people.
Going there, I was a little apprehensive. I knew no French, my Creole was rather limited, and teaching is not necessarily something I have a natural knack for. Therefore the prospect of spending three weeks teaching students in a foreign language was a bit daunting. As soon as I arrived though my fears were put to rest. It quickly became apparent that these students were eager for any sort of information or musical experience I could offer them. They were delighted to be at the camp and simply wanted to take as much away from it as possible. From 7 in the morning until 9 at night there was always something to do, whether it was tuning instruments, giving lessons, coaching a chamber group, playing along in a rehearsal, or accompanying on piano. Even during the times I thought I had free, students would seek me out to have a quick lesson or rehearsal.
Despite my inexperience and my feeble attempts at speaking their language, they were always grateful and eager for help of any sort. Every minute of the camp seemed to count. I remember seeing Ms. Anthony lead a nearby bassist or cellist in a bowing or vibrato exercise while the conductor spoke with another section during an orchestra rehearsal. Students would be up well before our 7:00 prayer meeting in the morning to practice or have lessons, and the kiosk stage (one of the few lit areas at night) would be host to various ensembles, lessons, and rehearsals with piano after the evening orchestra rehearsal.
Every Wednesday night there was a recital where staff and students were encouraged to perform in front of the camp. Never have I heard more enthusiastic applause or seen a more encouraging audience. It didn’t matter who was playing or what or how they played, everyone was excited and supportive. Sundays were spent giving the camp concert in which all large ensembles would play, starting with the boy’s choir, the young beginners’ band, the older band, the young orchestra, and then finally the advanced orchestra. This marathon would take hours in the heat of the early afternoon sun, the entire audience crowded under the few trees to the left of the stage. Students seemed to love this chance to play for their peers and family members (some more than others, of course) and it was great for them to have so many opportunities for performing things they had been working so hard on.
One of the things I loved most about the students at the camp was their innate sense and love for music. I was always amazed at the rara and jazz the campers would play if given some free time and some random instruments. I remember one power outage during an orchestra rehearsal when the entire orchestra spontaneously broke out into rara, sitting in the dark with their instruments. Violins wailing, trumpets blaring and the percussion beating out the rhythm, I was impressed and jealous that this came so easily and naturally to them.
Overall, I learned so much from my trip to Haiti. Besides the obvious—learning a different language (to some extent anyway) and getting better at teaching—I learned so much from the attitude and mind-set of the campers. Here I was in the middle of the most destitute and impoverished country I had ever been in, surrounded by kids glad to just have the guarantee of three meals every day. By any American’s standards, they would have a less than desirable life. These campers though, were the kindest, happiest, most charming people I have ever met. My favorite times were spent just sitting under a shady tree chatting with a student while waiting for lunch or after the evening orchestra rehearsal. They would try to teach me Creole or Haitian folk-songs, play with my “doll hair,” or ask about my life at home and my experience in Haiti.
Coming back to my home then, with food to spare, any number of good clothes to choose from every morning, running water and air conditioning and knowing I that in the fall I would be heading to a small liberal arts school with a conservatory where I can take lessons, play in various ensembles and hear a variety of concerts I’m overwhelmed with how much I take for granted. These students work so hard for things that are at my fingertips here. There’s so much talent and desire to learn there that spending three weeks of my time there hardly seems sufficient. I now understand the people who have been going back to work at this camp for years, drawn back year after year by the people and nature of the camp. I hope to join the ranks of those camp veterans (and those able to speak Creole) in coming years.
