One Day....One Chair

The first time I walked into the village of Neply, on the coast near Leogane, I did not know what to expect. I was slightly nervous, but a young American girl accompanied me who spoke Creole. I also carried a Polaroid camera to take photos of the Haitian children that they could keep. At one point, I must have had 20-30 children surrounding me, all talking excitedly, wanting to have their photo taken. I had a limited supply of film so I took group pictures and gave the photographs to the children. They jumped up and down, waving their photos and watching them develop. Just like American children. We walked into the middle of the village. There were naked children. Not naked due to lack of clothing. Naked because they were toddlers and it was just easier on mothers to let them run around naked than to constantly wash their clothing. Made sense. Word ran through the village quickly that a stranger was among them. We stopped and talked to villagers often, my friend interpreting for me. Where are you from? What do you do there? You have pretty hair. We reached one home and stopped. The home was a narrow, two room structure built with sticks, mud, then white-washed with a thatch roof. This house was unusual in that it had a concrete floor, not dirt, and there was a very small concrete pad extending from the narrow front door that constituted a porch. The lady of the house came out to talk with us. When she saw me, a visitor, she quickly went back inside and brought out an old, wooden, straight-backed chair and set it on the porch. She motioned for me to sit down. I looked at my friend. Everyone else is standing. Do I really need to sit down? Yes, she said. This is most likely her only chair and she has brought it to you to honor you as a guest at her home. Oh. Of course. I sat down and the villagers crowded around to stare and listen. We talked for a short while. Sitting in the lone chair and looking up at a small, standing crowd of beautiful people staring back at me, no words were necessary. Smiles, wide and bright. I felt they were genuinely glad I was there.