This, for me, was Haiti

There were only mere days before I left for Haiti that I found out we were going. This is the way life down here usually happens – plans are last minute more or less, and many times you aren’t quite sure what to expect as the weeks pass. I was excited to receive the news, but with few days to actually process the fact that I was going, the morning arrived and I felt a bit unprepared for what I was about to experience. I thought about how if I was going to Haiti from the States, on a mission trip or something, it would certainly be the focus of my energy and attention prior to departure.  Oh well – it might just be different after spending six months living and serving in the D.R., then crossing the border to the other side of the island for a few days.  My roommate Katie and I spent time in prayer, lifting the trip up to the Lord.

my travel companions

We set off, all eight of us missionaries, on our venture to another country. I don’t think any of us first-timers expected it to be another world. It was very black and white  - the bus was. Besides eight Americans, every single passenger was very dark, crossing over from the Dominican to their homeland Haiti, for one reason or another. Spanish was no longer filling my ears. I was hearing something totally different. As we crossed over the border, only a few hours from where we started, light-brown skin, Spanish, the colorful island feel, and everything familiar slowly began to disappear. I didn’t find it again until I crossed back a few days later.

Our surroundings were lost in the pitch black night when we drove onto the Kids Alive school grounds, where we were staying in a large house that stood at the back of the property.  I couldn’t see much of Haiti at that point, but I knew I did not even see the lit up “colmados” (small stores) that line the streets of Jarabacoa, where I had come from earlier that day. I felt like I couldn’t see anything out of the school bus windows. Only trees, the outline of a mountain range, and the dirt road that lay ahead of us.

flag raising ceremony

When we woke up the next day, we could finally see the Kids Alive school and the breathtaking view that wrapped around the campus. I was walking through the large front door to walk the 100 yards to the school, when I heard an incredibly sweet sound. It was 8:00 and about 50 very dark-skinned, uniformed children came running and screaming joyfully through the gates. Their joy came from the fact that another school day was about to start. After everyone arrived, they lined up next to the school in from of their Haitian flag. There was prayer and singing time, followed by a short introduction of us visitors. The experience of comparing and contrasting Kids Alive here in the D.R. and there was already  interesting, and it was neat to be on the team that was visiting – to remember what it feels like to be very out of your element, and not able to understand anything that anyone is saying.

our Kids Alive school in Haiti

In my mind, the comparisons between ANIJA and the Haiti school began. ANIJA is bigger, painted in bright white and blue and made of cement block. The Haiti school is brown and much poorer looking, made of plywood and looking partly like a barn, and sort of like a tint at the same time. There is canvas hanging off of the tin roof, flapping in the wind.  Coming from the States, ANIJA always seemed really different and “poorer” than the schools that I had grown up in. After going to Haiti, my view of it has totally changed. Watching the children made my view of a school structure change too. The school was totally different, a bit shocking to me, but not sad. The children seemed to be well-behaved, attentive, and there were touches of arts and crafts hanging around the rooms. The building may have been different from what I’m used to, but inside the wooden and canvas walls was the love of Jesus, being poured into the children every day, and it didn’t seem to matter what the exterior held.

My first interaction with some of the community kids, outside of the school walls, was at our residential home site that is currently under construction. The visit was interesting – allowing us to once again compare our ARK in Jarabacoa to the children’s home that is being built there. The more interesting part was the two little boys, partly clothed and painted with dust and dirt, who came running our way when we arrived. Our team leader Brian said, “Oh, our friends are here. They like to hang out around the site.” My thoughts were, ‘Why are these kids not in school?’ and ‘When is the last time he has eaten?’ as I looked into the extremely thin face and of a boney 6 year old child. He may have looked sickly, but his spirit, along with his companion’s, was very much alive and full of energy. They followed us around for the remainder of the time, constantly wanting to play “slaps” and hide and seek within the unfinished walls of the Kids Alive children’s home that they may not ever live in. I thought many times, and finally said out loud, “Why can’t we just bring them into the program?” I knew the answer. Every child can’t be rescued – and that is a difficult reality to swallow.

The next day was Saturday, and the few hours in the afternoon made up my favorite part of the trip- our community visit. During this time we walked around the community that surrounds the school and future residential home site, playing with and loving on children just like the two who hang around the construction site every day. We actually visited one of their homes, which is a small, dark room with one bed where the six of them sleep. They of course grabbed hold of us and didn’t let go for the next several hours as we experienced the rest of their community. As we walked, we were surrounded by the beauty of trees and mountains. No paved roads, no stores or businesses, just small concrete or mud houses, and the people who inhabit them.  The people are very kind, but need initiation of a smile or “bonjour ” to actually respond to you. They mostly stared at us as we walked by, which I’m getting used to in the D.R., but there was something more reserved and quiet about these people that I noticed immediately, and appreciated. I again felt worlds away from where I started in the D.R. I thought I lived in a natural place in Jarabacoa. Where I currently was felt even more rural and in the backwoods, hidden by vegetation and away from everything that seemed the slightest bit civilized. It was sad seeing these destitute homes and the very needy people who lived in them. At the same time, these children were so full of life and love, that I never felt overwhelming sadness. I was just surprised that none of the homes that I visit on a weekly basis, that are poorer than anything I’ve ever seen before, quite compared with the dark, wet house that I walked into, finding nothing.  Just the people. Where was their bed? Kitchen? Do they own a picture to hang on the wall? It occurred to me then that it was more of a shelter than a home, or what I consider to be a home. We snapped photos and they smiled, either oblivious to their lacking, or content with the fact that this was their life. And everyone is lacking – theirs is just more obvious, more physical. Who’s to say that internal lacking is not worse?

a Haitian woman and her child showing me their bedroom

We arrived back at the school grounds, and were chatting with some of the missionaries about what we had just experienced. All of the sudden, I heard the enchanting sound of a choir. My first thought – that is such a beautiful sound. My second – this is one of my favorite praise songs. Third – I miss my church choir and praise team so very much. Something that has been lacking for me down here is making music with my church family. I immediately followed the music all the way to one of the school rooms where I saw my friend and fellow missionary, Kristen, directing a choir of about 50 of the children that are in Kids Alive’s care there. They were singing “My Heart’s Desire” in Creole and English. That song quickly became one of my favorites to sing with the praise team at my church back home. It was an incredible blessing. The melody brought chills to my bones and happy tears to my eyes.

Director of Kids Alive Haiti, Robinson, directing the choir

The last couple of days in Haiti ended up not being as eventful as I had anticipated. I was supposed to join my friends for an excursion to an island off of Haiti, but instead found myself sick in bed. The blessing of the day was that I was able to reflect, journal, and read all day, once I felt up for it. A huge blessing of the weekend was that I did not get sick until Saturday night, allowing me to experience what I just described. God is good. Perhaps I’ll make it back to Haiti at some point during my life here in the D.R. I would certainly be open if God is willing. I saw such a different culture, such a different and gross level of poverty. We arrived back in Jarabacoa to discover that we were had no electricity or water, and we remained such as for the next several days. For me, it didn’t seem as frustrating as it may have been the week before. Before I experienced Haiti, and was able to reflect on all I’ve been given and the luxuries that I enjoy every day here in the D.R., and that I certainly experience in the States. May I carry this feeling with me forever.

1 Samuel 2:8

⁸ He raises the poor from the dust
and lifts the needy from the ash heap;
he seats them with princes
and has them inherit a throne of honor.

For the foundations of the earth are the LORD’s;
on them he has set the world.