Waking up on the second day none of us felt all too rested. Its true we had been laying down for about ten and a half hours, but the beds sucked and there was all kinds of ridiculous noised going on outside. Dogs fighting, people sawing and hammering, and several over zealous roosters who began announcing dawn just after midnight. Upon their revelation that the sun was not quite ready to rise they would shut up for about an hour and then give it another shot.
So, feeling rather groggy the seven of us (Marie is still in Newark at this point) make our way to the outside and soon to our neighbors for breakfast. We eat a hardy meal and then begin of first day of "work."
The first thing we need to do is get supplies. Several of us head to town to find some of our basic needs: tools, wood, nails, pvc pipe. Carol drives off with Jerace, a local with a car who is supposed to be helping us, to find some 50 gallon barrels. Several hours later we have some of what we need and get to work doing what we can, which at this point is next to nothing. We piece together some stands for the barrels, and manage to install one pipe on a house.
Much of our day was spent just sitting around and seeing what life in Saman was like. From what we could tell, Saman is populated mostly with Haitians, from newborns to those in their mid to late thirties. There were some who were older than that, but the curve was pretty drastic. Something there was no shortage of was babies. Babies and little kids everywhere. Some of them wore clothes, but many of the younger ones ran around naked or with just a shirt on.
What stood out the most though was that it seemed like so many of them had nothing to do. All day many of them just sat around. They have no TVs, no computers, not even books. Some have radios, but the power doesn't always work. Those who have jobs usually work nights, but you wonder when they sleep because they are up all time we are.
Near our house kids play marbles. I think I've figured our the rules, but I probably would still get it wrong if I tried to play. The oldest man we've seen lives next door, and he comes around with a stalk of sugar cane and a machete and cuts pieces for us to chew on. Its surprisingly sweet, but not sickly. Its sugar the way it was meant to taste. There is an abundance of the stuff here, so much so that fields of it simply get burned because they have no use for it. One day we woke up to find it raining ash after such an incident. Little kids everywhere walk around with this sweet treat.
Women gather in small groups, doing each others hair, some doing laundry, each one pregnant or just recently gave birth. Their babies are being passed around, and toddlers wander a short radius from their moms. Even though there was not much to do, the women seemed to always have some work to do.
My brother played soccer with some of the young men one day. It seemed like this was a regular game, occurring once a week. My brother said it was a lot of fun, but not knowing anyone he was playing with was tough, and he thinks he kept passing the ball to the other team.
As night approaches, the little kids go inside, but many of the boys in their teens and twenties go on hanging out in the dark. And it is dark. The power goes out every night around eight, so when the sun goes down it gets DARK. Some of them go out at night. They may not be able to afford more than a beer, but the dancing is free. Some others go to evening church services, which are just as loud as the bars, but that is another story entirely...
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