Amnesia

Concussions are a huge deal in the U.S., and for good reason.  So many kids get them from playing sports year round and obviously there's the big kerfuffle in the NFL regarding long term consequences of repeated concussions.  But what is a concussion?  A brain bruise?  Any contact to the head that causes severe symptoms?  A stinger?  Having your bell rung?  Seeing spots/stars?  Are these all concussions of old?  Maybe. And maybe even bumping your head on the bookshelf is enough to cause a "concussion" with respect to repeated trauma and long term effects. Fact of the matter is we have a pretty poor understanding of concussion. How hard does your head need to be struck to cross that threshold?  What direction does the force need to travel and what parts of the brain are the most susceptible.  How long is the recovery?  How do we make it better?  What is the long term prognosis?  #NobodyKnows

One of the more common symptoms of concussions is amnesia, which can be of events immediately prior to the incident (retrograde) or of events happening after the incident (anterograde).  Some events are so bad and you come to in a dissociative fugue, or the Jason Bourne disease. Ideally anterograde amnesia resolves and even some of the retrograde amnesia starts to clear with time and frequent orientation. That's kind of how I've felt these last few hours.

It's been nearly a year since I last stepped foot into Haiti.  I've been so caught up in my first world problems that I've failed to make down once in a calendar year. Seems inexcusable. And, like most trips, you always have to expect the unexpected. So, true to form, I receive a call as I'm leaving for the Wichita airport that my ride to my final destination will be delayed by a whole day.  Kind of a big deal when you're only in country for 7. But, I couldn't change that so I got extremely lucky that Dr. Angie was in country and available to play host to me on the first leg of my trip instead of the tail end like she and I had tentatively talked about.  Ok.  I think everything is settled.  I run to Walgreens to pick up a script for ondansetron.  I nearly laughed as the pharmacist started explained what it was and how to use it.  But, no time for a discussion, I did have to make my flight.  I get dropped off, and in the fluster of an awkward departure I totally left the zofran I had just picked up, my spare apple charger, and my toothbrush...  #Peachy.

My travel day was quite the blur, but I found myself in Port au Prince today morning.   I was being picked up by an old friend, Smith, and driven back to Arcahaie, the place I had called home for a short but significant part of my life, just two years ago.  Really? That long ago?

Things have changed. It has been soooo long since I have been here.  My creole is beyond rusty.  I see relatively major buildings and have no idea what they are.  Turns I used to know by heart seem foreign.  I feel like I've lost it all.  As we get closer to Arcahaie more comes back.  Cabaret, where Smith and I stop to buy some school supplies for his class, is the same bustling market that I remember.  The seasons have always dictated what fruits and veggies are on display, so I find no surprise that there are plump watermelons and mangoes lining the road. The same cat calls of 'blan' greet me as Smith and I walk through the rows of shanty shops.  The same, disgusting fish displays find themselves a little too close to the stand selling me my toothbrush.

We press on and I suddenly find myself walking the familiar path up to Do Digue.   I've taken these steps hundreds of times before.  But as I cross the threshold of the town everything looks different. A new, concrete plaza sits where a dirt-floored, community meeting place once was.  A water pump is established adjacent to it, in the city center, with people lined up to utilize the free water source.  Kids that used to be scared toddlers now run around me smiling, and know my name.  Sorry kids, can't return the kind gesture.  Even Nola's house is a different color!  I'm lost.  I feel like I've stepped into a new world.

Smith and I settle in under the shade in Nola's yard and catch up.  A lot has happened since Nola and I first met two and a half years ago.  Clearly a lot is completely new to me and totally awesome progress.  But the more we talk the more I wish my amnesia were a little bit more...expansive.  Sure my brain will let me forget to bring my anti-nausea pills on the plain and my toothbrush, but I can't forget the frustrations, the hardships, the tragedy and the loss that I've unfortunately come to associate with Haiti.

I know some very special people that seem to have that ability.  Tough days are forgotten before their prayers are said.  Outlook is always sunny.  Arguments, lies, mistakes, and injustices all seem so easy for these people to move past.  They get the big picture.  I struggle with that.  Disagreements between like-minded people with near-identical goals go unresolved because of people like me and we end up with 15,000 NGOs in a country the size of Rhode Island.  But this is neither the time nor place for such theology. I'm trying to catch up on life.

I ask Nola about my God child. "Li en ba." Descriptive...  We walk until this scared little toddler is walking in front of me. Next up is Norline.  Before long I learn that both my kiddos are growing up. Baby David isn't Baby David anymore.  Heck, he's not even David.  He's walking. Talking a little. And knows how to push buttons on an iPhone. Norline is just as adorable but muuuuuch bigger.  Someone's feeding her well.  It doesn't take long before I have them both on my lap. But then it seems like far too soon that I need to pass them back and head out.

I have one final stop and I make this one more out of obligation because it doesn't fill me with joy like he others. But I stop to visit Carole and Jean Roo.  As the moto stops and I descend I still have no idea what to say. I never do. It's nothing but disappointment and failure.  I'm somewhat relieved to hear that everyone is away from the house at the moment. Smith and I hop back on the moto to head back to Angie's house. For now I can continue to feeble attempt of selective amnesia.