Posted: February 26, 2010 in Uncategorized
My days are starting to get a rhythm.    I go to the women’s center, do
my stuff there, visit and help out at the hospital, do breast pumping
with Djenie, take her to see baby Kenley, sterilize instruments and so
on.  The abnormal is starting to be normal.  Then today happened.
I get a text from John since you can’t hear on my phone.  My car, phone
and washing machine don’t work these days.  The text read:  "Alex at the
police station, go there now!"
Alex is one low key young adult.  Always one for adventure, never
flustered, always enjoying Haiti.  We love him.  He has become like a
son which is very fun since I love his mom Debbie so much.  He steals my
socks and yells "I love you, goodnight" at night.
We have  creche kids leaving one by one on humanitarian parole.  Somehow
Alex got volunteered for the escort job.  He’s up for anything, will
read his kindle while stuck at the embassy all day and is so easy going
that he is the perfect choice for the "you might end up in jail" jobs.
 We’ll visit and bring you food.  He’s game.
Well, today it almost happened.  The embassy gave the documents for
Gabriel whose parents are waiting in Florida for him.  Alex was brought
to the airport and was supposed to head off with the baby, give him to
his parents and then turn around and return to Haiti.  The Haitian
officials didn’t agree.  A document was missing.  An important one that
the Prime Minister was supposed to sign.
By the time I arrive at the police station an official was writing out
the story in long hand in detail.  Every detail.  Byron, Agathe, Junior
and I were there.  The embassy was called.  Alex’s passport and the
baby’s paperwork were taken.  Our American diplomats arrive.    Our diplomat decided that Alex was not dressed
nice enough to escort the baby (he should see John!).  Of course you
didn’t get out you look like a bum!  Maybe he didn’t know that his own
employees forgot an important document in the packet.  It was all Alex’s
fault for being a casual young adult after the order of John the
hippie.  Alex just shrugged, I was mad, Byron was polite.
A long discussion ensued in French and our side must have won because we
came home with Alex, the baby, and his passport.  No jail time.  We’ll
try again tomorrow with the proper paperwork and Alex just might wear
the same clothes he had on today.
Beth McHoul


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