The air is filled with debris. The tropical sun in early August is fierce and unrelenting. Unaccustomed to this heat, I spray on my SPF 30 sun block and lather on layers of insect repellent.
The moment I step outside, beads of sweat form along my brows-- the spray and lotion combo create this greasy film and melt under the pressure of the sun. I am defenseless and hot. I use my bandanna to wipe my face and neck. I am also thinking jeans were a bad choice for the day. I resign myself to deal and try not to appear too bothered and uncomfortable in the heat. After all, this is nothing compared to want millions of Haitians go through-- sweat and mosquito bites will not kill me.
Needless to say, it was one of the many American moments I had in Haiti.
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