Blan

Have you ever seen the show, “The Whitest Kids You Know”?  It may have been inspired by me.  I seem to typify every “white” thing in both appearance and activities.  I listen to Kanye and can rap several of his songs at the drop of a dime, but secretly enjoy T-Swizzle and definitely had her back when the two of them were beefin’.  I use the word “beefin’”.  I pretentiously drink microbrews when I go to the bar.  I think it is our moral obligation as a nation and as individuals to support those less fortunate. 

Probably the one “white” thing that doesn’t resonate with me is running.  White people love jogging, or maybe it’s ‘yogging’ #WithASoftJ.  My dad was an avid runner participating in marathons through most of my childhood.  I suspect if I were to take it up I might be decent at it, but it’s not my thing.  Hell, I should probably give my menisci to my dad as he’ll get more out of them than I will. 

Except of course, when I’m in Haiti.  I have no idea why but I enjoy running the foot trails along and up the mountains in Gran Bois.  Maybe I just really like stepping in shit.  Maybe I like tumbling down a mountainside while all the Haitian children laugh.  I definitely like the scenery.  I’m not sure God has created more beautiful and scenic views than in Haiti #SorryNotSorryTwinPeaks.  I try and take pictures, but I give up because there is no way they can match the en vivo experience. 

My first full day in Gran Bois, after a long clinic day and after a large “supper” I opted to throw on the tennies and head off on the trails.  Again, pretentious white person, I was jogging in an Under Armour dri-fit t-shirt.  Bright red.  Hard to miss.  I took off on the paths up the nearest mountain.  Familiar trails turned unfamiliar quickly, but “deciding where to go” was just a break in disguise.  And I’ll cop to it, the rice and beans tasted way better the first time than the second…

I made it back to the clinic and then headed off in the other direction.  I had hoped to catch a group headed on a hike to the Dominican border, but just ended up wandering down new paths and scoping out new mountain top views.  My story nearly took a sharp twist as I was passing a man guiding a bull down one of the footpaths.  Standard procedure is to speak some salutation to anyone you pass.  Even if you don’t stop to engage in conversation, they’ll be much more pleased with you having heard you wish them a “Bon swa”.  So I take to the left edge of the path as I pass the man and his beast and I finish my greeting I catch the bull lowering his head and taking aim at the gorgeous, red shirt adorning my chest.  I about face planted in a pile of donkey shit jumping out of the way, but the man was equally quick with his switch and got his bull in line.  A friend of mine always said, “If you mess with the bull, you’ll get the horn.”  I pert near got both of them.

Undaunted, today I took off in another direction.  So as not to become a target for any livestock, and obviously to work on my tan, I ran sans shirt.  With my headphones on I can block most of the calls from off of the side of the road.  A quarter of a mile from the clinic I ran by a cock fighting ring.  If I had had any cash moneys on me I would have stopped to gamble a little, but alas I kept running.  I found an incline with stairs carved and molded into the side.  And this led me to more and more steep hills that led up to one of the higher mountain tops around us.  Again, several “deciding where to go breaks” were had.  When I arrived at the summit of the trails I stopped to take it all in.  Gorgeous.  Amazing view of the entire country side including a speck in the distance that was the medical clinic. 

Suddenly I was approached by three school children.  One actually had his language book out and was practicing his speech.  I wasn’t running, so I took out the headphones and did my best to engage them in conversation.  I knew I wasn’t the first white person they had seen, but I may have been the first “red neck”.  I could already feel the slight burning sensation on my skin that likely meant my color was already changing.  We went through the basics.  Name.  Age.  Grade in school.  No I’m not German.  Yes I was staying at the clinic.  No I didn’t know where I was going.  No they didn’t know who lived in the small hut at the very top of the mountain we were standing on.  The back and forth continued with several pauses and “M pa konpren’s”.  But my stomach was telling me it was time to get back, so I offered my parting words.  They smiled and laughed and said several things back and forth that I could not catch.  However, looking around as the sun was fading I can imagine only one thing.  “We are disappointed.  We thought you would stand at the top of this mountain and give the valley ‘daylight’ for a few extra hours tonight.”  #ThatWhite