Jean Philipe Germaine

Last week Bos Dejoie, my adoptive father for two weeks, took me on an expedition ann deo- to the countryside. After walking for a couple of hours and taking the cows up the hill for vaccinations, we stopped in on a little house. They explained that the tiny bundle I was watching in the middle of the bed was eight days old and that his mother had passed in the birth. This little boy was number 9, and it had been too much. That happens here, a lot. I didn't know what to say, so I just asked his name. He didn't have one, they said. And then they all began to stare at me; it took me a while to realize that they expected me to take care of the problem. And then it took me moment to catch my breath. All Haitian men have the name Jean, so that part was easy enough. I hope that Jean Philipe Germaine (his family name) won't mind the label I've given him. I left exhausted, holding back tears. The poverty here is so thorough that I still can't really process it. I wish I didn't have to.