Chloroquine-After visiting with a wicked smart Infectious Disease guy in MN, we have officially changed our stance on prophylactic Chloroquine. The thing is, Malaria won't necessarily kill you, but there is at least one really bad strain that has been found in Haiti on occasion. Lots of old-timers here in Haiti are kind of cavalier about it, so we were, too. We have changed our mind. With one pill a week we can be protected. Sounds easy enough doesn't it? It is some nasty tasting stuff.
Here are the ways you cannot trick a two year old into taking Chloroquin: hiding it in mashed potatoes, hiding it in cookie dough, grinding it up with sugar and adding water. This is our third week of all being on it and we finally found the motivating factor to get Noah to take it and not spit it back at us. Amie Sexton saves the day with her gift of RAINBLO bubble gum. For two gumballs, Noah will take the Chloroquine. He hates it and his expression lets you know it ... but in the end the boy will sell out for gum every time. It is kind of silly, considering he swallows the gum within 45 seconds of it being given to him.
Chicken-
Tuesday night is chicken night. A long time ago we accepted the fact that all chicken sent here from the USA is sub-par. In Haiti chicken breasts are an anomaly. Because the breast is in high demand in the USA and thighs and legs are cheaper, they import all thighs and legs here. Ish. After nine mostly chicken free months we had our friends pick up a box of chicken in St.Marc for us. Our freezer is full of bony brown meat that is less than exciting. (The rest of the family don't know what they are missing and love chicken night. I am all alone.)Know this: a boneless, skinless, big chicken breast is a beautiful thing.
Boundaries-It has become increasingly clear that our lack of boundaries is going to come back to bite us in the butt. The first taps on our gate are usually around 5:30am. It is not uncommon for someone to come at 7 or even 8pm. This is Sunday through Saturday. Without exception someone taps every time we sit down to dinner. It is somewhat difficult to answer the gate and say "sorry not now." It kind of makes you feel like a jerk. The thing is, it starts to make you crabby if you are constantly not in charge of your own time. As we get more and more taps and we become the only gate to tap at, we are putting our foot down. This week when a fellow missionary said to us, "she is not your obligation" (referring to Mme Bozor) it struck us that if we do not carve out time where we are "off" the job we will get to the place where we see people in that light, as "obligations." We don't want to be that way. Pray that we figure out how to do this boundary thing without feeling guilty and without seeming to our neighbors like we don't care for them.
