Lotsa kaka

On Friday, Sharon, Ben, and I went to Kenscoff to "camp out" in the guesthouse there. When we arrived, the dog was jumping around and waiting for us as usual. It looked like the barrier that I constructed last weekend had worked and she couldn't get into the house any longer.

We unlocked the door - and could see that, contrary to our belief, the dog had gotten inside as there was kaka everywhere. Nothing like arriving to a house full of dog crap and urine....on hardwood floors. Ugh. We cleaned it up and proceeded unpacking - and then I realized that my bike had a flat tire. Hmmm. And Ben's bike was not where we had left it - it was in the little room off the kitchen with a water bottle canteen-thing tied to it.

We scratched our heads and wondered who had been in the house. Maybe someone else from MCC came up and borrowed the bike(s)?

I went to get something from the truck, and the boy who lives under the house in a room that looks like a hostage bunker (seriously, if I ever disappear under mysterious circumstances check that room first) approached me. He asked me how everything was. I responded, "Not good - it looks like someone has broken into the house, used our bikes, and is generally not respecting our property."

He was shocked, because he is there a lot and thought he'd know if someone broke in. Then he asked about the bike. I said that yes, for sure someone borrowed it without permission.

He responds, "Yeah, that's bad. I don't know how it got a flat tire."
Me: "What?"
Him: "The flat tire."
Me: "I didn't say anything about a flat tire."
Him: "Yes you did!"
Me: "No, I didn't. How do you know about the flat tire?"

Et cetera. Accuse deny accuse deny. Back I went into the house, somewhat furious but trying to stay cool. Home invasions are near the top of my list of Things That Make Me Angry. At the very top of the list might be messing with my mountain bike, and this was double trouble: a bike invasion, if you will.

I tried to let it go, and we started a campfire.* Amazing. We lost track of time, mesmerized by the sheer magic of the fire.

* A dream come true for me. I've been scheming about how to have a fire ring on the porch, and finally we just used an old half of a steel drum and drum lid and burned a huge branch trimmed from a tree in the Depps' yard.

Around 11:00pm I went inside to use the toilet, and since it was dark my ears told me that I was not urinating into a bowl of liquid but a bowl of...kaka. Ewww gross. So, now someone has broken into the house, borrowed bikes, flattened a tire, and used a toilet several times and did not flush?! Could it get worse? I flushed it all away and poured bleach into the toilet.

The next morning we put the pieces together. It looked like a window had been left unlocked - one of the few unbarred windows in all of Haiti - and if one were determined enough, it would be possible to inch across the narrow ledge on the outside of the house, above a 20-foot drop, open the window, and hop in. One of the doors was only locked by a deadbolt from the inside, so once in, he/she had easy access. It seems that our criminal friend found the spare key and kept it for more easy access. It is indeed a scary ledge.

To further incriminate our non-hostage hostage-room resident, the gardener stopped by and told us he had seen this kid riding our bikes around. He went and found the kid (okay, who is actually a nearly-full-grown 17-ish-year-old) who denied the whole thing again. I told them that it doesn't matter who it is, just tell that person to throw the key(s) back into the house after we leave and never do it again. The kid left and we're hoping the case is closed.

For prevention of future unauthorized indoor kaka production, I re-blocked the space the dog had been using to enter and installed new padlocks on all the doors. Our bikes came down the mountain with us, so that if by some stroke of luck the intruder returns he/she can no longer borrow our bikes.

Weekends in Kenscoff, sigh. It seems there's always drama up there - and it lately involves kaka.