Well, February break is finally here and we are in Haiti after multiple travel warnings from the State Department, two snow storms and anxiety on all accounts. Ok, wait. Let me back up a bit. Last spring, a history teacher at DY High asked me to teach class on some of my travel experiences with Habitat and Fuller. I put together a slide show depecting some of the countries I had traveled to that had once been colonies. The class was studying that era in sea travel and empire building, and I felt the need to tie it in somehow so that "learning can take place" (this is a phrase you hear a lot in education, both in question and statement form). I recognized my audience - most of these kids I had as 7th graders when I was student teaching at the middle school.
Upon
seeing pictures of other kids their age on my trips, several of the
students asked if they could generate a sign up sheet for upcoming
trips. By the time October rolled around, I had filled my quota of four
9th graders, two teachers, one retired teacher and two adult friends.
So... that brings us back to Port au Prince in mid February. A sleepless
night led into a pre -awn morning leading four giddy teenagers through a
barely open Logan Airport to Port au Prince. Austin, Fran, Katy & Lexi had fundraised for their trip, and even though I had tried to prepare them for what was to come ("no expectations!") that is pretty difficult to impart to teenagers, two who had never been out of the country before. 
We
arrived two hours late, and had no idea what was going on in the city.
We had been getting reports from the state department for the past two
weeks of isolated riots and incidents of violence due to Martelli's
prolonged presidency and the postponement of a vote. I still can't
believe these kids' parents allowed them to go with me - but I trusted
our host, Gerald, and he assured me that there was no danger where we
would be building. I watched these kids' expressions - absorbing what they were taking in, trying not to let their eyes get too large. Luggage begin casually tossed on to the top of a large mini bus, the smell of food, dust, coal, exhaust. The strip mall where all of them ravenously ordered hamburgers and cokes. We had picked up an older gentlemen who was a friend to both Fuller and Habitat, running an affiliate of his own back in the states. He would be riding the four hours out to Pignon with us. When we piled back into the bus, he had a large cup of strawberry ice cream. I hadn't been hungry and didn't order anything, but later on the in the week, I thought about that ice cream again and again. Especially as there was a lopsided sign advertising "Ice Cream" right next to the guesthouse where we were staying. Unfortunately, when there is sporadic electricity, ice cream tends to melt.
