Dear Diary IV

At certain points as you travel in Pestel the main road continues but all else becomes hiking paths. You could ride a mule along these pathways and even a motorcycle...to a point. Though the distance is relatively short (0.5 miles) the traveling is so slow and at time tricky.

Certain places you duck under overhanging coffee plants or step carefully over rocky paths. A single bag of cement for a cistern or a building would have to be hauled up by hand.

But honestly, if anyone could or would do it these people would. They are strong people--physically strong. And they are humiliatingly generous, kind, hospitable, and gracious with their words. How many times have I heard people thank God for me and thank me for my 'sacrifice' in coming out to them. I feel extremely unworthy of such kindnesses.

Though they are poor they remain a very happy community. I'm not trying to paint too rosy a picture here. Life is hard. Everything is hauled. Land is tilled by hand. Cisterns are dug by hand. Rocks are smashed up by hand. When they need sand for mixing with cement...they go dig it up from some sandy place and carry it to the building site. No cement trucks or even wheelbarrows.
But here you do see half-naked kids with bloated bellies (worms, most likely...or malnutrition). Here very few of the kids go to school because they cannot afford it. And of those that do attend the 3-4 hours of school per day (all that is currently offered) it is a surprise if more than 1 or 2 from an entire class would go on to high school (in Port-au-Prince or Jeremie).

There are a good number of teachers in each village. That's encouraging! But they are without employment. Either there is no school building or no funding...or both. They seem to be bright, capable people (a number of these folks are part of KPA--the development group). They care deeply for their communities (they could try to find work as a teacher in a bigger city in Haiti, for example) and hold out with hope.

I want to start seeing that hope fulfilled.