In Haiti, I met myself coming and going through the eyes of my Americanisms and “discomfort zones”. I met my selfish private self, my chunky pious self, my ungrateful self, my competitive self, my egotistical self, my bogus, whining, middle of the road average, churchy self. None of these selves were sufficient for the NEW SELF needed in Haiti. The change from my self-serving attitude was imperative if I wished to be of service to the people. I met my evolving modest self in the long pencil thin hanging genitals as I walked three miles beside two 4 year old emaciated boys carrying buckets of water on their heads. I met my self centered war with personal hygiene when a young lad was shampooing his hair and brushing his teeth in the same water where the women were doing laundry and a donkey stood urinating. I met my feministic tendencies when a man told me that in the village where I stayed, a donkey is more valuable than a woman. My identity crisis came into full tilt when a Haitian girl ’bout 8 years old pinched me on the behind and said, “HEY MISTER-MISTER ARE YOU AFRICAN?” It was then that the new me began. The village where I stayed had only seen White American male missionaries. The children could see I was not white and their sketchy English did not include the words “her” or “she” or “mam”. So for the first two years of my travels to Haiti, I was HEY MISTER MISTER. My inner self said, “welcome to the new me”


HEY MISTER, MISTER… — 3 Comments

  1. Wonderful way with words, Yolantha. God speaks through you, as we all can. Keep up the heavenly work!

  2. Thank you Rose for your kind words. Sharing God’s work in my life is a very humbling and awesome task. We must each tell the story of our lives, because when others tell it, the story is not always recognizable. God can speak through us all.

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