Everyday in Haiti I drive the 1 mile to work and between the people, the cars, and the roads, rarely make it out of second gear.
Everyday in Haiti I find myself in a meeting in which everybody has their cells phones arranged in front of them (one PSI phone, one Digicel, one Voila, maybe a Blackberry for fun). The phones go off loudly all the time, to my keen irritation, and the owners answer de sotto, holding the mouthpiece directly in front of their lips.
Everyday in Haiti, we hear lively demonstrations on the streets.
Everyday in Haiti I look down upon women balancing baskets atop of baskets heaped with bright produce as they walk on the street below my apartment to the market.
Everyday in Haiti I pass people who have been living under tarps for six months. Sometimes I notice them, sometimes I don't.
Everyday in Haiti, I relish having internet access at home.
Everyday in Haiti the power goes off for a few minutes at night before the generator kicks in, reminding me that I have electricity and water comes out of my taps when I turn them on.
Everyday in Haiti I pass people walking on the street and look at them through the glass of my car window and find it weird that I am here to serve them, but they know nothing about me except that I am rich and they are not.
Everyday in Haiti, I am glad to be here.
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