Haiti Day One

If you know about the mission trip we took to Haiti, you know that we returned quite some time ago. Did you know, however, that the trip is still making daily impacts on many people, including myself? While there, I kept a journal of our activities and a few observations. I hope you find them meaningful, encouraging, thought provoking, or at the least, entertaining.

Friday, 26 February

Finally here in Haiti. Had a small scare in the getting here part. While in customs, a few of our bags & trunks were inspected. The "officials" there wanted to charge us tax on some mirrors we brought. It was very obvious that the customs "officials" were more well off then the other Haitians we had seen. It was also unsettling that they were the law of that time and place. Somehow, (read, "by the grace of God") we were able to convince them that the mirrors were gifts, not wares to be sold. Or maybe they got sick of arguing, but either way, 45 minutes later we moved on. A 10 minute drive to the other side of the airport. Our "taxi's" were more thrilling than a ride at Six Flags. The driver's seat in the SUV I rode in wasn't bolted to the floor. I don't think I've seen a window yet that isn't cracked. On to another wait in a packed airport. The bathrooms have nosey attendants and everything is dirty and in poor repair. We were informed that they knew we were to fly out soon, but they needed to find the airplane first. That's right... find. Another hour & a half and we're off in shiny, pretty new puddle jumper... with balding tires. We land on a gravel strip. The Jeremie airport is smaller than many north Texas homes. There isn't anyone working there. No control tower. Four trucks pack us and our 21 bags on the trip to the church. The roads redefine bumpy. Average mph? 7 at best. 1:45 drive. I'm sore and beaten. We stopped for gas in downtown Jeremie. Very crowded. Our hosts gave us a bottle of soda and a small sandwich. Chicken with catchup on a hard, dry biscuit. A young boy, maybe 7 asks for something. Rubs his belly while pointing to my sandwich. So skinny. Three of us end up splitting the sandwich. When I hand him his piece, a small bit of chicken falls on my hand. The thought crossed my mind to just drop it, but he snatched it into his mouth before I could blink. The refill takes a while. The gas is brought out of a shop in gallon containers, and poured in with a funnel. As we leave the city and wind through the mountains we see people everywhere. They all stare. Wide, wide eyes. Open mouths. I can't tell if they're expressionless, or if it's something else. Maybe they're trying to deal with the contradiction of our being there. Our presence forces thoughts about their poverty to the forefront of both of our minds. Maybe there's a spark of hope behind those eyes, yet the fear to show it. To give the hope a foothold that might not be there tomorrow.
When we arrive near our sister church, it is dark. We dismount to walk the remaining half mile to the church. The townspeople are out and waiting. There is a huge contingent of children leading us into town with a singing parade. They sing louder than you could ever believe possible from such little bodies. It is beautiful. Small hands grasp mine. Smiles light up the night as we walk. A small welcoming service greets us, and we are led to our beds. The room is small, and has bars for windows. There is one naked light bulb. Fell asleep hoping the massive spider that we killed earlier was the only one in the room.

Hope you enjoyed, more days to follow.
Neil