We find ourselves on a country road, after dark, in deepest darkest rural Haiti. It is only 8:30 but someone has turned on the waterworks. The sky is a gash of torrential water. Lightning is striking all around us and the thunder is deafening. Inside we are stuffed next to the driver who is doing his best to keep us on the muddy road despite of the leaky and foggy windshield. We are on our way to see a vodou priest.
We have just left a cockfight, and are fully stocked up on rum and candles for the ceremony. Honestly, I am a little scared. I feel as if we are pushing our luck. This is Haiti afterall, granted Jacmel has been an absolute delight, but the travel warnings and years of stories about zombies and voodoo-dolls does leave an imprint. However we push on, we are what you would call committed.
We arrive at a dark house. Mud all around us, the rain is pouring down. Inside the only source of light is a simple oil lamp their daughter is holding and the rain on the roof is drowning out any other sounds. The ceiling is cover with flags, the walls with paintings of spirits and symbols. It is a completely cinematic experience.
But the family is so awesome. It feels so crazy to meet such wondeful people under such amazingly spooky circumstances. Anyway, we talk, we bump fists, they insist I take photos. Kim shares a name with their daughter which everyone finds amazing. The rain keeps thundering down between the lightning bolts and our plan of waiting out the rain seems increasingly unlikely. Apparently the ceremony would be the day after anyway, so we run back out to the car and drive ever so slowly back to our hotel. Through massive puddles, on a road lit by lightning. To the tune of a rolling thunder.
Tonight we go back.
*There will be more on Haiti later, but I start with this. It’s not chronological it’s in the midst of it all. Haiti has been an experience, there is more to say, and it’s not over yet.