Despite nearly two months of self-reflection since returning from Haiti, I have found it very difficult to reflect upon my experiences. I have come to realize that the emotional effects of those experiences are indescribable and could not be done near justice with an analytical reflection. After this realization, I decided that I could only write in reflection by describing a few of the experiences that contributed to my leaving the country with a changed perception of my own life.
My first real taste of Haiti was the streets of the capital city, Port-au-Prince, through the window of our speeding car. During that crazed first morning in Haiti, we made our way from the airport to the Episcopal school in the capital that ran the music camp we were volunteering for, and then finally to the music camp in the city of Leogane outside of the capital. Driving through the capital, it was the incomprehensible density that stuck me most quickly. Houses piled on top of houses filled the rolling mountains that flanked the city as far as you could see. As my attention turned to the sights along roadside, I saw this same chaotic density in the hordes of people and cars filling the road. Within this were makeshift businesses that lacked any of the usual “storefront” structures I was used to seeing in the US. Black soot and grease stained the sidewalk of an auto mechanic. Their inventory was sorted and displayed in piles across the sidewalk and into a back ally that they seemed to occupy. The newest arrival of parts was a battered old American sedan parked on the street that they were removing parts from as cars sped past. At many points, piles of trash bordered the roadway that stood nearly as high as our truck. But, the most striking aspect was the signs of life shown among the people. Despite the horrific conditions around them, I saw more smiles and laughter than I would ever expect to see along an American roadside. There were certainly significant signs of suffering, surely a product of their surroundings, but by no means had the immense poverty weakened the Haitian spirit.
One of the most memorable experiences I had in Haiti was one afternoon about a week after camp had began. Rainstorms had limited our opportunities to rehearse and teach lessons in the late morning and early afternoon, since both took place outside. As usual, this left puddles of standing water that covered the grass field that served as concert seating, general recreation area, and of course, the soccer field. Seeing that the rain had cleared, the young boy campers decided that they couldn’t pass up the opportunity to kick the soccer ball around before they had to take showers. Seeing this, I decided that I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to join them. I took off my shoes and socks, and headed over to their game with puddles of warm water splashing with each step. It didn’t take long for me to see that running through and kicking the ball out of the big puddles was just about the most exciting thing that those boys could have ever hoped for at that moment. Seeing each of those boys grinning and laughing, I couldn’t help but feel just as overjoyed as them to be splashing and playing keep-away with a beat up soccer ball. Despite the fact that it didn’t take more than 5 minutes for the whistle to be blown announcing the end of free time, that game left me smiling the rest of the day. I was indescribable to see each of those boys so overjoyed, that any uneasy feelings from their home life or their surroundings were now non-existent. Added to that, was the fact that I had that same ecstatic feeling and can’t think of many other times when I have.
One of my biggest challenges in going to Haiti was actually becoming the teacher of the Haitian students. I entered the trip excited, but apprehensive about the language barrier. Although I knew some of their language, Haitian Kreyol, I was sure that teaching would not come easily. As it turned out, I didn’t have any time to be apprehensive, because I was thrown into teaching a sectional and about six private lessons on the first day of camp. The first few days were rocky, but I was surprised at how quickly I began to build a vocabulary pertaining to teaching and playing the violin. With so many violin students and so few violin teachers, I could rarely get more than 5 minutes before a student would ask to schedule a lesson. This insured that I got plenty of practice through repetition. Also, I believe that this experience improved my teaching abilities, because when I couldn’t use language, I had to communicate the idea on the instrument through demonstration. When I did get a few minutes of down time, I often became the student as certain English-speaking students gave me pointers on kreyol vocabulary. In whole, I taught between 75 and 90 private lessons during my three weeks at camp, not to the mention teaching two sectionals a day and conducting pieces with the string orchestra. As much as this was exhausting, I didn’t mind because I never had to ask a student to put forth the effort. The students were very eager to make the most of every learning opportunity, a self-motivation that is typically only shown by the “brightest” students in the US.
