6/10/11

Tonight, was one of the most memorable experiences of my life.  During our  journey out to Bohoc, our team stopped at the “New Life Children’s Home” to bunker down and grab some rest in expectation of our long bus ride the next day.  Shortly after dinner, we were allowed to socialize and play with the kids that were out on the swings, playing soccer, running after one another, amongst many other activities you would expect from children.

Upon walking to the playground, I saw a little girl whose legs were barely long enough to touch the ground of the swing she sat on.   Cheerfully looking back for a push, she smiled as I put forth the little amount of effort required to send her blissfully swinging.  From a distance, Steve had asked me if I had brought any duct tape.  I said “Yes, of course”, as I was that guy who adhered to the list of seemingly unnecessary items to pack.  Steve held up a sandal, owned by one of the children, that was broken due to one of the thongs ripping through sole, where it otherwise would have been held in place.

I walked back to my room to grab the duct tape, and by the time I returned, the team had vanished.  (Unbeknownst to me, or possibly due to lack of memory (most probable), the team was already gathered at the agreed upon meeting spot to listen to the caretaker of the facility).  Ahead of me, stood the little boy whose sandal was broken, and I sat down with him, pondering how to fix it. 

As I started to twist the duct tape in and around the sandal, a group of children gathered in a circle pondering at what I was doing, and at what I held in my hand that was making such odd noises and sticking to the sandal.  I weaved the duct tape around the thong, threaded it through the hole and affixed it to one of the other thongs on the bottom, to create solid structure.  I taped over the work so that the “fix” would stay in place and put the sandal back on the little boy.  He got up and ran around on the newly fixed sandal.  Success!  But just about the point I thought my work was finished, a little girl approached me while holding her broken sandal in her left hand. 

It wasn’t long after I sat down to fix her sandal that it was clear I had created a fan base that was growing around me.  One child wrapped his arms around my neck from behind, resting them on my chest.  I had children on both my left and right shoulders, resting their heads, watching me work.  As I looked up, there were already two more children holding their broken sandals. (Clearly word spreads fast around the facility).  They asked me “What is your name?”  I responded, “I’m Brad.”  Immediately thereafter, they all started reciting my name, over and over again.   Except one thing was wrong (or hilariously correct).  They didn’t understand my name was “Brad”, rather they thought my name was “I’mBrad”.  It was as if I had a bunch of children around me who kept announcing that their name was “Brad”. 

“IMbrad!” “IMbrad!” “IMbrad!” “IMbrad!”….it kept repeating.

As night was setting in, the mosquitoes were coming out in droves.  Those who know me, know there is something about my skin that attracts mosquito bites far more than the average person.  Next thing I knew, I felt someone hitting my legs.  I looked down and there was a child around my left leg, and another one around my right, inspecting my legs for mosquitoes, and when they found one, *SMACK*  they killed it for me. 

It was a sign of appreciation for what I was doing, yes, but even more so, it was a sign of care and consideration that the people of Haiti have for one another as well as for all people meet.  It was example of how they care for one another’s well-being, which is widely prevalent in nearly everything you see.  These children had the ability to know that swatting the mosquitoes on my leg was something that I would appreciate, which is a consideration for others that I’m not sure I had when I was their age.

As I finished up fixing up the roughly half dozen broken sandals that came my way, they all started saying “Thank You IMbrad!”, “Thank You IMbrad!”.   Still fascinated with the duct tape that I used, they kept reaching for it.  I gave each of them a small patch of duct tape, and I was blown away by how enthralled they were to own a piece of 1”x1” duct tape. 

Eventually, I made my way to my feet and one of the kids hugged my right leg.  “Thank You IMbrad,” he said.

Then as I started walking to reunite with my group, the same child, who’s sandal I originally came to fix, grabbed my left hand, and started to walk with me.

Tonight, my name was “IMbrad” and I was a Shoemaker.

Brad Norkewicz