tired

Yesterday was a long and hard day for me. My first class had over 20 kids packed in the little school house. Throughout the class I kept thinking how great it would be to have only the kids that really needed help in learning how to read and write letters because when the class is so large it is hard to give that one on one attention that so many of these kids need. My second class had about 15 kids. They are a little bit older and therefore a little bit more opinionated. After class Cristina and I were a bit discouraged because they were a bit disrespectful. During the break that we have between the second and third class, the two of us were talking about vision for these classes and about the racism established in this country.

While we were talking, one of my students walked up to the school house and told us that a Haitian boy had just died. (He was one of my students). Cristina and I walked over the the Haitian side of the village. There was a huge crowd gathered around the house of the mother of the dead child (Salvador). She was wailing, as were other family members.

A day or two before someone had told us that two brothers were playing, Salvador and Jeffery. I don't know exactly what all happened, but a machete got stuck in Salvador's throat. Proper medical care was not sought out or given, and as a result Salvador died.

The family was wailing and all the people were gathered around. When Cristina and I walked over there, I found Jeffery and began holding him in my arms. I cannot imagine the guilt that must have been going through his mind. After a little time I walked over to the school house and cancelled the last class of the day. I walked back over to the Haitian side and sat on the ground were all the young Haitian boys and girls were sitting observing all that was going on. Jeffery sat in my lap, and some of the other kids (most all who attend my classes) had their heads leaning up against my body. Salvador had just recently started attending class, but I could not keep my tears from flowing down my face.

I sat there for a couple of hours with the kids, removed a little bit from the wailing family members. Jeffery sat in my lap doing a combination of resting, sleeping, and picking out the dirt from underneath my fingernails. I was still crying. (Yay for being given the most emotional genes in the world). I stayed in Pancho Mateo two hours more because I got Jennie to drive me home because I had all the leftover milk and eggs and other school supplies that took a couple trips to load up in the car. I left the village tired after everything had happened. I got home around 6pm, which is about an hour earlier than normal, but exhausted nonetheless. It was a hard day.

The funeral service is going on now. We had planned to go, but then realized that the immediate family usually doesn't attend. There also is (apparently) a strike going on today and tomorrow, so everything is closed down and no one is on the road. We decided then that it would be better not to go into Montellano for the service. I am hoping then that today I can just lay low at the house. Our director Sharla arrived yesterday evening as well, so we will probably spend a lot of the day talking and planning.