Lubens Outreach

Several days a week I walk downtown to the park in St. Marc, praying along the way and at the park for God to move in this land and to draw the people to Himself.  I also try to develop as many relationships with Haitians as I can.  When I first started I could make this walk in 40 minutes.  Now, because of all my new friends, 2 hours is cutting it short.

Haitians speak Creole and French; I do not.  When I first started walking and talking, the only thing I could say was “Bon Jou,” (Good Morning in Creole).  Although I usually walk at 6am before the work day begins, I still sweat like a pig from the top of my bald head, down my arms, through my shirt and onto my legs and feet.  The locals definitely notice this bald headed soaking wet “blan/white” guy, who smiles at them and can only say one word, “Bon Jou.”

Most people laughed and pointed at me. Some, who thought I might speak Spanish, would say “Ola”.  I don’t speak Spanish.  Others, who thought I could speak French, would respond in French.  I don’t speak French, despite my last name and heritage.  A few others guessed that I spoke English and would say “hello.”  However, when I responded in English, I quickly found out that a greeting was almost all the English they knew and they quickly found out the same about me and Creole.

I kept going out walking, praying, smiling and saying “Bon Jou.” As time went on, I learned a little Creole and was able to say “Kòman ou ye/How are you?”  Then they thought I could speak Creole and would speak in Creole to me at a hundred miles an hour.  Of course, I had no clue what they were saying.  With a blank stare on my face, I smiled and continued walking.

A couple weeks into my daily trek, an older woman in the market called me over. This often happened. However, this particular lady wanted to give me her daughter so she could have the good life.  I tried to tell her in English that I was happily married and did not need another wife.  Unfortunately, I could not get this through to her. So I tried in Creole. I said, “Mwen bien.  Mwen mari rele le Vickie.” That ended the conversation.

I thought I was saying, “I am fine. My wife’s name is Vickie.”  At my next Creole lesson, I found out that I actually said, “I am fine.  My husband’s name is Vickie.” The word “mari” in Creole does not mean “wife” like I thought it did.  It means “husband.”  I guess that is one way to make them think I do not need another “wife.” :)

What makes this even funnier is that a couple weeks later I was driving with Vickie through town when I saw a group of guys who were roadside mechanics that I had befriended.  I wanted to introduce Vickie to them.  So we stopped and I tried to introduce them. The guys speak very little English and we speak very little Creole, but we make it work.  So I introduced them to Vickie and she said... “Mwen rele Vickie.  Mwen mari Curtis/My name is Vickie.  I’m Curtis’ husband.”  They looked a little confused.  However, they got the drift.  When we got home I told Vickie what she said and that I did the same thing a couple weeks earlier. Guess this term wasn’t too clear in Creole classes.  We had a good laugh.

Vickie and Timothy are much better at learning languages than I am. However I have half a town that wants to teach me. :) :) :) :) :)

Fun Stuff In Haiti With Curtis...