Reflections on a week in Haiti…
A person can see photos, watch a video or maybe even a
documentary about poverty in third world countries. But, until you
actually step out of the comfortable American culture you have no clue of the
reality that is out there. Walking out of the Port-au-Prince airport the
temperature tells you immediately you are in the tropics, but unlike most
Caribbean get-aways this week in Haiti wasn’t about relaxing and recharging,
but instead finding out if I would be able to finally “walk the walk” I talk to
myself about as truly being the hands and feet of Jesus to those so desperate
for His love.
The arrival at the Healing Haiti guest house proved to be a
bit of an oasis from the lack of amenities seen on the drive from the airport.
Subtle home-like comforts were welcomed, but the oppressive heat that lingered
all week was a constant reminder of my softness in comparison to so many I
encountered throughout the week. As the week continued and the AC was
turned on in the bunkroom I shared with a couple others as we went to bed for
the evening; I thought about the different homes (corrugated tin shacks) we
visited and how warm each of those folks must be every day and night. The
heat never rests in Haiti.
Serving on the water truck in Cite Soleil drives home the
importance of basic survival and human needs. Not only for water, but
also the need for love and touch and bringing the light of Christ to what
otherwise seems to be a very dark place when observing the lack once again of
so much we take for granted here at home. Entering a neighborhood with
our first tanker it was like the ice cream truck that drives through my
neighborhood in the summer as all the kids come running when the horn blasts
its entry call. They are running and smiling and shouting “Hey you, Hey
you” as the sights and smells of the poorest slum in the Western Hemisphere
smack me square in the eyes and nose… all I could think is “how does this
happen?” The next hour was an absolute pedal to the metal adrenaline rush
of chaos. The Haitian locals know the drill and expectation; however, for
my first time it was a head first dive into the deep end. It was scary,
emotional, physically demanding; it was raw. The water comes fast out of
the tanker while the 5 gallon buckets and large shallow tubs just keep coming
straight for the water hose. Kids are pulling on you to be held while
older siblings and mothers jostle for position in a makeshift line. The
hope is that everyone gets their fill before it runs out; if not, another day
will have to pass before the tanker comes again. Water and Jesus, the
essence of life.
As a diversion between water stops, we walked through a
different neighborhood to see the ocean. This certainly was no million
dollar water front property in the tropics like your mind could drift off to
dreaming about; no, this view revealed to me what “survival” really
means. It showed me a people doing what they had to do to survive.
A little bare bottomed boy grabbed my hand and led me along a well-worn
single-file foot path where I had to turn sidewise to fit between the housing
structures. As we winded through the buildings, people were going about
their day. I saw a woman making what appeared to be “dirt burgers” as she
meticulously laid them out after frying them over an open fire. The boy
was pointing down different paths and then turned to be lifted up; he had
flip-flops on this feet, but he knew enough where we were that I was a better
option to carry him than for him to walk by himself. It was then we
entered this open area covered in sharp edged sea shells 4 to 6 inches
deep. The ocean waters were within 50 yards and the ground was a bit
unstable; the smell of salt water and sewage burned my eyes and nose as I saw a
number of pigs rutting in muck and decomposing garbage… again, “how does this
happen?” Survival skills are learned at a very young age in
Haiti.
Driving into the countryside provides a perspective a bit
more relaxed. Less people, less noise, less commotion… but still signs
and opportunities to help those in need. We visited a couple community
“elders” by essentially performing Haiti’s version of “Meals on Wheels”;
delivering food, washing their feet, singing and praying with them.
Sharing their smiles and love of Christ is powerful and a testimony to His
grace and mercy. Seeing and learning about the wonderful empowerment
Grace Village is providing to the community of Titanyen is truly a work not
only of the Haitian people, but by God’s loving grace as well. The school,
the clinic, the church, the bakery, the restaurant – all examples of the local
people making it happen for themselves. Empowerment.
Finally, I want to introduce a new friend of mine. As
our Healing Haiti “Tap Tap” pulled up to the La Phare Orphanage, it was
apparent one 8 or 9 year old boy was looking for a friend. He immediately
grabbed my hand and led me into the open court yard that looked to be their
play area. He sat close to me and I couldn’t help but put my arm around
his shoulder. He couldn’t tell me his age, but when asked his name it
sounded like he said “Vincent”. I repeated it back and he nodded in
agreement, so Vincent it was. We played with the colorful parachute as a
larger group and then broke off to do bubbles and jump rope; all the time
Vincent making sure he knew where I was. We colored, sang songs and
played with Play Doh too. It was an hour of carefree timelessness… I
wasn’t thinking about anyone or anything else except me and Vincent.
Towards the end of our visit, I thought about my own kids. Two girls, 12
& 10 and two boys, 7 & 5 and I thought… “When was the last time I have
spent one hour with each of them individually in that same carefree
timelessness mindset and why am I not doing something about it now?”
Spending time with those who mean the most to you… family, friends, God.
It has been an emotional week for sure; something I knew was
going to happen even before arriving in Haiti. It took me a couple years
to finally say yes to going on this trip and now that I have I can’t imagine
not going back again. It was my prayer to be open to hear God’s call, to
learn His will for my life as a takeaway from this Haiti experience. Now
is when the real mission begins; right here, right now. How I live and
what I do to be the hands and feet of Jesus Christ my Savior.
-Patrick
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