"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!" A scream is heard in the black of the night. It's an hour or so after all candles were blown out and voices stopped chattering. I flew out of my room to see Cooley sitting on his cot with his mosquito net in hand...literally...instead of it hanging overhead. Usually it is duct taped to the rafters on one corner, and to the cement wall on the others. This time it was firmly in the grip on his hands instead. It seems a very large Haitian-sized cockroach had run across his face while he was sleeping. Yes, his face! And just how big is a very large Haitian-sized cockroach? Supersize. Over two inches long and about an inch wide...seriously.
To say the least, he freaked. Who could blame him. I would have freaked. But we tried to lighten the situation by calling him a girlie girl, screaming and all. Jerry assured Cooley in 10 years he had been coming to Haiti for mission work, he had never seen a cockroach on the island before. Never! It just wouldn't happen again. Freak thing. Conversation over. So we all went back to bed. I prayed for poor Cooley...but the story wasn't over...not yet anyway.
We all settled back onto our cots and eventually convinced Cooley into turning his flashlight back off. One hour passes...tic toc tic toc...
"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!" Cooley screams again! I'm thinking "No way! I cannot believe a second cockroach could possibly search out the same poor guy as the first!" There were 8 of us sleeping in three rooms all attached. 7 team members and our interpreter. None of us had a cockroach walk across our beds. Why Cooley? Why now? Well, I couldn't imagine it because that's not what happened. What happened was that Cooley was still awake with flashlight in hand living in a state of full paranoia, when he looks up near one corner of his net and then "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"...there was a huge oversized Ile a Vache-sized spider. I'm talking 3-4" in diameter with fur, beady eyes that glow with a mere flashlight drive by, and pinchers on the front of their heads that scream right back at 'cha "Go ahead, I dare you to try and swat me!" Creepy at best. Horrifying at worst...in bed, under a net, together with one of these buggers.
Let's just say it was a llloooooooooooooonnnnggggg night for most of us, but especially for Cooley who I don't think closed his eyes again until we were all up with many new sets of protective eyes. The craziest part of this whole story is that Cooley was the only team member to bring a bed tent. Now, in places like Africa you must use a bed tent because Malaria is rampant, killing someone every 8 seconds or so. Mosquitos are certainly apparent in Haiti, and so is the Malaria they carry, but not near as bad as Africa and honestly, we are all required to be on Malaria meds for two weeks before leaving and 4 weeks after our return. So...we don't bring nets. But Cooley did. He hung it with pride the first night bragging something about how he wasn't gonna get those mosquitos, spiders or anything else crawling on him in the middle of the night! Truth? He was the only who did! Seriously. Now isn't that ironic? Don't 'cha think? (thanks for the lyrics there, Alanis Morissette...)
as well, and there is bossman #1 and #2, hammering the floor of the church. Seems it has been crumbling for some time so concrete work is concrete work. You get 7 Americans to show up willing to haul concrete up a mountain...and pay for it...they must have thought "Hey! Let"s get this floor redone while we're at it!"
Sure enough, we are breaking up the entire floor with small hand held sledge hammers, the entire floor of Nan Soulette Eglise' Methodiste Church. I'm talking about 1500 square foot of concrete here. It was a long hot morning, and honestly, we hadn't seen anything yet!
Once we were done, then we were told the cement had arrived down on the shore. Like one hundred 92 pound bags of cement had arrived, to be exact. It was brought over by the same small wooden boat we were brought in from Les Cayes, across the ocean. Glad I wasn't along for that ride! Talk about shifting your odds for sinking!! So we walked down to the shore to find sure enough, Haitian men already throwing bags on their sholders and heading back up the mountain to the church. Crazy! I'm telling you. Jaime and I could not budge even one bag between us. Our men about died the first bag they carried up. Literally. Jerry began to black out near the end of his trip up. Cooley couldn't breathe. And Darryl was glad to have our life insurance up to date. Yet Haitian man after Haitian man jogged up the mountain with a 94 lb. bag of concrete on their shoulder...while talking to one another!! Did I mention the locals are barefoot 80% of the time? The only time most of them they wear shoes really is during worship or when they visit the mainland. Did I also mention the trails up the mountain are no more than steeply angled ravines filled with limestone rocks, unearthed tree roots that bow above the earth, and dead chunks of cactus broken off bushes along both sides of the path?...in 90 plus degree direct sunlight??...barefoot????...94 lb. bags?????? I swear they aren't human. Superman's descendants maybe...but not human.
It didn't take long for the Haitians to figure out we needed help if were going to make any dent in this pile, not to mention, live long enough to do any other work in the coming days. So they whittled 2"-3" diameter poles from downed trees using huge machetes. Each set of two poles were laid side by side about a foot or so apart on the ground. Then they tossed a bag of cement over both poles perpendicular to the poles, themselves. One person walked in front of the bag of cement with a hand on each pole to the right and to the left of them and one did the same behind the bag. So simple, yet so amazing. Even Jaime and I could make it up with a bag in tow...well...if we stopped a few times along the 1/3 mile trek up the mountain. It felt like 6 miles, I swear, each time. For some reason, we also found out our hips were wider than the Haitians (could be the thousands more calories we eat per day than they do...). So anyway, if we actually held the poles beside us, the cement bag would fall through the hole in the middle and hit the ground...over and over....until the locals we were walking by in their homes were dying laughing. Quite the entertainment, for sure. So we had to attempt to hold the poles out in front of us or out behind us, rather than by each side. This shifted the weight and our muscles were screaming for relief.
After a very long and hot afternoon with just half the bags delivered to the church, we fell into the ocean, as its cool salt water wrapped around our wasted, weary American bodies. After dinner we again gathered with many of the villagers and members of the church outside the pastor's home. I brought out the coloring pages and crayons for the kids. Talk about cockroaches!! Kids scurry about this way and that when I say the word "Coloure, coloure!" While the kids color by candlelight for hours, adults sit and watch. Youth and young adults sit in small huddles with Jeremiah, Tom, Darryl and Cooley, learning new phrases as they exchanged their languages.
Soon we ventured in for our nightly devotion and prayer time, falling into bed well before 9 tonight. We swore it was past midnight. Spent. Nothing left in us to give. I think Cooley slept tonight as well...or passed out...not sure which.
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