I'm Back

My last night in Haiti was probably one of the most awesome ... literally awe-filled ... nights in recent memory. It began with having a pile of candy to hand out on Mom's behalf. I knew there were a few people on the roof, so I went up. I offered, and I left.

After my candy-running errand was over, I went up to the roof again, knowing that people would still be there. Most of the Integrate team eventually made it up to the roof, laying down and looking up through a cloudless patch of sky. The stars weren't out in full-force there either. I remember marveling at how so many stars get filtered out by the tiniest light. But it was Haiti. I lay back with the rest of the crowd, and just enjoyed the cool night air, and the black star-dotted sky.

Eventually I was alone on the roof. Strange how solitude can be so comforting. That's something I think I've been missing since St. John's. As strange as it sounds. In September my solitude was my hell. But by the end of my second term, solitude was something I enjoyed to an extent. I could have taken less of it, but I stopped wishing for none of it.

In Haiti, I didn't have my iPod. I didn't bring it for fear using it, more than loosing it. On that roof I started to hum to myself. I couldn't remember any songs other than the Chorouses Awesome God, and Let it Rain. I had never liked the latter before the trip, but one day when some heavy rain was pounding down, one of the guys jokingly sang a line. I couldn't get it out of my mind the whole time afterwards.

Let it rain, let it rain.
Open the floodgates of Heaven.

I must have hummed and sang that chorus to myself more than a hundred times on the roof.

Then fireworks started.

At first I didn't know what was happening, and was scared for it. I was in a different part of the world, sitting on a roof, on a quiet night in a troubled city. I was staring off into the distance, when the clouds flashed Red. Red again. More red.

I wouldn't have been so frightened if they had started with the blue quicker. I turned around and saw clouds being even more intensely colored. I decided the commotion was over there. I figured by that time that it was fireworks or pyrotechnics or something. It was around midnight, and Friday was the Haitian Flag Day. I watched for a while longer, and fireworks began to explode over the treetops. There were a few hills between the celebration area and where I was, and only the top halves of the firework blooms were visible, but they were still fun to watch.

In retrospect, I sort of wish we could have been there celebrating with the people in Port Au Prince. If anyone deserves to celebrate their national identity, it's the Haitians. It's the second independent nation from the new world, right behind the U.S. And the U.S. didn't go from Oppression to Hardship-filled Freedom.

I eventually went down from the roof, and journaled for the last time in Haiti. As an aside, I haven't even picked up the journal again yet, despite my vow to journal my whole summer. The power had gone out in the guest house, and the night-guy brought a candle up to lend some light to the darkened hallway. I talked with him briefly, but the conversation didn't really move beyond "The generator is broken." and "Thats bad." He was telling me that it wouldn't be possible for it to be repaired until well into the next day.

After some advice for us to open the shutters from my window before going to sleep, the man went downstairs, and I sat down by the candle. It was the only light I could find, so I just journaled there. When Melissa went to bed, she offered me her light, but I declined. The candle was nice. It was like the washing-clothes-by-hand thing. It was great fun and something I wanted to do. If I had known I would have to do that from then on, it would have lost it's appeal, but for then it was something different. Living a different reality.

Tonight I had a sort of bridge-across-time experience. I walked to and from Scott's in the cool air. I was listening to my music. When I got home I went out back and sat down on a bench. I looked up at the stars. I looked across at my city. I could see more lights tonight than I did in Port Au Prince, which is 50 times the size of Corner Brook. I'll blame that on rolling hills being in the way in Haiti, but I know there are other factors.

I wish I could get that feeling on-demand. It's time to make good on the promise I made myself. But that doesn't need to be addressed here.

Tonight was just a good night. Nights like this lend me the resolve I need.

A year from now, I will be in a better place.