Moving to a different country is weird. It is stretching. Scary. Exciting. Growing. And just about every other adjective you can think of could potentially fit into this category of “moving countries”.

Sometimes, it is simply just hilarious.

Might I say, moving to our little country of Haiti is like becoming 13 again.

At 13 I remember the yearning for wanting a later curfew and desiring that first car that brought so much freedom (yeah, I started burning CDs in preparation – YEARS before getting my license).

Suddenly, being in this new country, you are denied freedoms that were once granted to you. 13 again.

Driving? Good riddance to least until you are a resident and can get your license. Not to mention understanding the culture of the roads here.

Staying out at dark? Meh. Not much of a thing anymore. There is not even public transportation at night!



Moving to Haiti is like learning how to live again.

You can no longer communicate.

You no longer know how anything works You have to learn how to cook, ripping off leaf by leaf of lettuce, scrubbing each with vinegar water.

You have to learn how to brush your teeth and shower (please do not swallow the water). You are not even positive at first which water is safe to drink. You have to learn how to buy groceries. And you actually have to learn the whole grocery store itself (aka, our lovely outdoor market). You relearn how to do dishes, your laundry and even what can and cannot go down the toilet (sorry dear trash can).

And if it could not get any better – the word for someone who cannot understand or speak Creole is “BEBE”.



Are you catching my drift?

Although some of these things are becoming second nature to me, it is entertaining to watch our new housemates go through this journey of ‘becoming a baby’ again.

I am reminded of my first months here, and how humbled I am, once again, remembering my dependencies and how that has thrown me further into the Father’s arms. There is no other choice.

What does a baby need? Its’ protector and teacher, its’ mama and pops. And like us, a bunch of babies living in between the Caribbean and mountains, we need our Teacher and Protector only that much more.