An American nurse working at Confidence Health Center learns that some things aren’t what they first appear. Or rather, some things aren’t what they first sound like. Like any other language, Haitian Creole has many figures of speech and nuances. It’s only a matter of determining what these are and what the real meaning behind them is. This is a continual learning process, and even after working in the clinic for a year or two, one still has to sometimes sit back and say “Excuse me? You say what?”
Here are a few examples:
L’ap manje mwen. The literal translation of this is “It’s eating me.” As in: “I was chopping grass with a machete and accidentally sliced my foot open. Now it’s eating me.” Ok, exactly how is your foot eating you? Further questioning reveals that the foot is, in fact, hurting. It’s hurting bad. It’s eating me. What I need is some pain medicine and a bandage and maybe it won’t eat me anymore.
Depi anvan ye. This reply comes to the question, “Since when have you had this rash? (or this pain, or this wound, etc.) The patient frowns and thinks. Finally the answer comes: “Depi anvan ye.” Well, directly translated this means since before yesterday, so it is very little help to the nurse conducting the assessment. Yes, I can see that this foot has been infected for a long time. Definitely since before yesterday. But when exactly? A week ago? A month? A year? The patient nods. Yes. All of the above. Sometimes they clarify: “Pou plizye jou.” For many days. Ok, never mind. It’s not that important. We’ll forget about trying to find out exactly how long it’s been. Sigh.
Doule anba kè. We hear this multiple times per day. Almost every patient complains of this, both young and old. It means “under my heart is hurting.” Sometimes under my heart is “burning” specifically. I need Tums and omeprazole. I have heartburn.
Li poko gen laj. This is the occasional response we get to the question, “How old is your baby?” Mom frowns and shakes her head. “He doesn’t yet have age.” Well of course he has age, he’s right there in your arms! What age is he? When pressed for details, mom might be able to remember the date of birth. Calculating off of this, you can deduce that the child is 2 months old. But in the view of the mom, he doesn’t have age yet. He’s just a baby. A newborn. Nothing more and nothing less. Age doesn’t matter.
Pa ka pale. These words seem innocent but they usually carry a story. Translated, this is simply “cannot speak.” As in: “We were in the market and left our sister home alone. When we got back this afternoon, we found her lying in her bed like this. She can’t speak.” You bend to examine the patient, and indeed, she is lying flat on her back with her eyes closed, not speaking. Whether or not she actually can speak is not argued. You can try to coax words out of her, but the family is quick to assure you it won’t work. You’re wasting your time. She simply can’t speak. Her breathing is normal and unlabored. Her vital signs are normal. Her eyelids flicker when her eyelashes are brushed, giving the indication that she is conscious and aware. But nothing you do or say will get her to speak. What is the deal? The first time the American nurse encounters this, many wild possibilities come to mind. Has she had a stroke? Seems unlikely, considering she’s 18 years old and in apparently good health. Did she have a seizure and is now in a post-ictal state? She has no history of seizures. Was she poisoned? Is it tetanus? You question the family, as they are the only ones currently able to contribute to the story. They shrug and maintain their story that nobody was home and therefore they have no idea what happened. However, as you continue questioning and probing the issue, the pieces of the puzzle start falling into place. The details come little by little, but in the end you get the gist of the problem. It seems that the girl was not, in fact, alone all day. She had a visitor, a neighbor girl who does not get along with her. They had problems between them, and the conversation got hot, and words were flung around like rocks. There were a few blows exchanged. And then the girl became like this. She can’t speak. Hmm… is she just angry? Yes, the family nods their heads sagely. She is angry. That is all? She can’t speak because she’s angry? Um-hm. Yep. Looks like it. Ok. Well, not much we can do about this! We can give a little something to calm her down, but this is a personal problem and medicine isn’t going to cure it. Yes, the family agrees. It is a mind thing. A problem with her spirit. She needs to forgive her neighbor. We give a little sedative and some gentle counseling and send them on their way. Sometimes the “pa ka pale” sickness strikes because of grief. I recently went to the house of a neighbor lady that had recently buried her son. She was lying in bed, staring at the wall. She couldn’t speak. I checked her over and eventually gave her a injection of diazepam, a sedative. A few hours later when I passed by, she was sitting up, smiling and able to speak again.
Mwen pa ka monte mòn. This complaint usually comes from an older person. The average age in Haiti is startlingly young, but occasionally we’ll get a patient who has passed the mark and is still with us. They usually don’t know their age exactly, but their hair is gray and their normally smooth face is lined with wrinkles. They peer at you with rheumy eyes and squint when you speak to them, having difficulty understanding your American accent. You ask what is wrong? The answer: “Mwen pa ka monte mòn.” Um, excuse me, you can’t climb mountains? “Exactly. When I’m walking home from work in the evenings, I find that I can’t climb the mountain. I get short of breath.” Well, that certainly is a problem, considering that you would be hard pressed to find 100 feet of level ground within walking distance of here. There is literally nothing but mountains here, so if you find that you suddenly can’t climb mountains, you’re in a hard place. But we patiently educate the patient on the natural process of aging, that maybe when you’re 70 years old and have done hard manual labor every day of your life, it’s normal to feel a little tired when hiking these mountains? I mean, I’m in the prime of life and I still sometimes feel like I’m going to give out, hiking up a particularly steep place. They smile and nod their understanding. We give them vitamins and some oral nutrition solution. Go home, papa. You’ve earned your rest. Maybe you will be able to climb a few more mountains yet.