The Look

Yesterday we went to a Haitian medical clinic in Cangrejo where a friend was being checked out for worms. Fifteen or so people waited in the small room outside the doctor's office. There was an old Dominican man who had injuries to his knees, hands and feet, as if he had fallen off of a motorcycle or a pasola (scooter). In the waiting room, with everyone there able to see, a doctor took a scalpel to his half-healed injuries. Right there in the waiting room.

While there, we ran into a friend, a former employee at Suncamp, where I used to live, who is a lovely but feisty Haitian lady of about 5'1." She's always dressed neatly and in color coordinates, this time all in blue: blue skirt (she's a Baptist and wears skirts over the knee, as do most of the evangelical Christian ladies here), blue fitted t-shirt, and a light blue shawl wrapped around her head to keep the hair in place. She's confident; she has seven children so she would have to be to keep order. You would never guess that she could be old enough to have had so many. She's a little fire-ball but also a devout and good Christian. We asked another lady to move over one seat, so that we three could sit together. The woman mumbled something in Kreyol that was clearly, "No." Our fire-ball friend looked for a long moment at this woman. I could just barely see annoyance in our friend's face at this unkindness as she debated what to do or say. This time godliness won out: our friend just moved past her and crouched in front of us to chit chat.