ricardo was one of our interpreters, fluent in four languages. moreso, he was a part of our team in haiti. he worked at frere manse with us every day. you can read his story here. he was full of gratitude, never a single complaint. i knew his life was hard, but we didn't talk of such things. he talked and i listened about clothes, and weight, and ne yo, and he was light. we joked like we were students together, or siblings. i felt the connection with him that comes from being similar in age. not that there were barriers to discussing more...other than that of sharing the weight of the world with someone who had little or no way of changing the circumstances. just on the surface level, though, i sensed his gaining confidence. his willingness to grow in words. his eagerness to connect on a deeper level.
i had no idea the beauty of his soul until i read his words sent to me by another haiti team member: "You don’t need me to tell you that 2010 was a dark year for Haiti. Many people must be asking, “will light ever shine here again? Will morning ever come today? Life sometimes seems like eternal darkness, right? Difficulty, pain, sorrow, and hardship are the only things we experience. We can’t see where we are going. We can’t see the path of life in front of us. When life is the hardest and night is the darkest, we are tempted to give up and quit walking. It’s at the point of despair that we need to hear the victorious sound of the rooster, “morning is coming”. The rooster isn’t crazy at all, after all, it’s when the night is the darkest that we need to be reminded that morning must eventually come." Ricardo, March 25, 2011
ricardo will forever be my rooster in haiti, building to a crescendo, and in a loud voice reminding me of the hope to be found.
Lemaire and Ricardo
(haitian interpreters)
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