Day 6--Steve--Road to the Clinic

It's Friday and we are on our way to our final clinic in the country. I'm riding in the back of a pick-up packed with clinic supplies. We've reached the round-about at city center, and will edge our way in to the free-for-all of trucks, cars, bikes, motor bikes, brightly colored tap taps, and hundreds on foot. The market spills out across the street and chaos reigns supreme. People yelling in a language I can't grasp. Car horns and loud Haitian music . Trash lines the streets and buildings and alleys and the river.it coalesces with mud and grease and flows in the gutters like thick coffee. It smells of diesel, exhaust, sewage, and dead fish. We are yet to cross the bridge. We stop to pick up the Haitian nurse who will ride silently back here with me. Soon we will accelerate on our way past banana trees, sugar cane fields, and mountains upon mountains. Past the pictures of the ladies at the well. Past the crowing roosters. Oh it's so far the other way my own country has gone . I feel the wind in my hair (both hairs). I feel like everything will be ok . I think to myself, what a wonderful world .