A little over a month ago, I ranted and raved about the children at my workplace constantly forgetting my name. I groaned and moaned throughout the post, writing that when these kids, who I've seen daily for months, forget my name, it makes me feel belittled, unimportant, and unknown. For moral support, I then quoted theologian Frederick Buechner, who wrote that he felt as an embarassed fool when his name is forgotten.

Well, I'm sad to say that this time around in Haiti, the tables were turned. As we drove onto the property of the farm that we were staying at, I immediately saw the familiar faces of Luckson, Conel, and shortly afterwards, LaCharit. I recognized them instantly, for they looked exactly the way they did four years ago (except they were a few inches taller and very much more muscular). However, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remember their names. It completely escaped me. They comlpletely remembered everything about me, including my name...so much so that they, without knowing ahead of time I was even coming, saw through the long hair and beard and ran up to me to greet me by name.

As we "talked", they eventually asked me if I remembered their names since I never called them or greeted them by their name. Once they realized I couldn't recall, they shook it off with a half-smile and went about their business. Needless to say, my friends felt that same feeling of unimportance and belittlement.

The moment really drilled a hole right through me. For years, I had proclaimed a love for and a desire to return to Haiti. It was all I talked of when asked about my hope for the future. Then, once I do return, I show just how important Haiti wasn't to me. The words of Buechner probably translated well in the hearts of Conel, Luckson, LaChari, Wesner, and Galinx:

If somebody misprounces (my name) in some foolish way, I have the feeling that what's foolish is me. If somebody forgets it, I have the feeling that it's I who am forgotten.

Even though I was the foolish one, I made my Haitian companions into fools upon my second arrival into their country. They had awaited my return (as I promised them) for years, and when I do actually fulfill that promise, they quickly make out my complexion beneath the hair that covers my head. Then they discover a blubbering idiot who had forgotten their names.

Time will tell if my heart and mind holds true to the friendship that I professed to them this time around. Daily I look through our photographs to transplant myself into Ferrier, and to also refresh my memory. My hope and prayer is that the love I express for Haiti goes much deeper than a simple fondness of the culture. Deeper to a community and a bond with the souls that make up that culture.

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Below are some additional snapshots.

LaCharit and his son.


Thoma and I, seeing each other for the first time in 4 years.


This is actually the end of our trip. Faith and I were sitting on top of our 'tap-tap', waiting for it to take us to the airport...


...and when I say 'tap-tap', this is what I mean. This is a larger one. You'll normally see approximately 40-50 people crammed into and onto one this size. They're called tap-taps, because when you're on one of these things, the only way to let the driver know it is time for you to get off is by tap-tapping loudly on the side.


Galinx, Wesner, and I doing some sightseeing.