I have no idea what time it is right now. Mid-afternoon, I suppose. The overnight travel combined with the swap between multiple time zones has thrown my internal clock all out of whack. We boarded a plane from Denver to New York City at 1:00am last night (early this morning, technically). Between that flight and the NY-to-Haiti flight (an accumulation of about 8 hours in the air), I got a total of about 4 hours of sleep. I don't feel sleepy, but my body doesn't seem to have much energy.
As we approached Haiti in the plane, I could see the beautiful Caribbean water below us. Occasionally, I saw long ribbons of dark sandy/foamy-looking waves in the water. I asked Franz (a Haitian-born friend who was a part of our team) what it was. The trash, he told me, from the shores of Haiti gets carried out into the ocean polluting the crystal clear aqua water for miles. It was gross.
Then I saw the rusted roofs. As our plane decended, we flew low over hundreds of tiny, broken, rusted shacks that seemed to be glued together by heaps of trash, like bricks layered into sticky cement. Just as I was thinking to myself, "there's no way people live in those", another of my travel companions turned around from the seat in front of me and said "Welcome to Haiti. We just touched down in Chaos".
We exited the plane and walked out into a blazing furnace of sunshine. Holy crap this country is hot! After checking through customs, we got on an old beat up school bus, our transportation for the week. A boy, probably in his early 20s, began to yell up at us through the school bus windows. He wanted money, "just a dollar, please?" he asked in broken English. We have been strictly instructed not to give handouts to anyone. It would cause other overseeing Haitians to swarm our bus. When we denied the young man's request, he asked instead for one of us to give him a wristwatch. Of course, we can't give him that either. So then he got upset and jumped up on our bus. He hung from the window as we drove away. The driver didn't stop. The boy finally let go and stopped yelling at us. That was my first glimpse at the desperation of this country.
We met Pastor Ronald. He is awesome! His smile is so welcoming and he is so thankful that we are here. Pastor Ronald oversees over a dozen churches in Haiti. He also oversees the Orphanage that will soon be relocating to the new "My Father's House" facility. It is currently under construction, and we are planning to visit it later this week. Pastor Ronald is our guide for the week.
Did I mention how hot it is here?! Oh my gosh!
As we drove through the rocky narrow streets, I noticed grafitti on nearly every wall. Women were balancing huge loads of things on their heads as they walked. Children ran up and down the dirty streets, some in uniforms from school... others nearly naked with no shoes on. There was not a square foot in site that was not covered in dirt and piles of trash and broken glass. I've never seen so much trash. Piles of it line the streets everywhere you look. I could not see past the brokenness... broken and crumbling walls, broken streets, shattered glass, destroyed buildings... nothing but poverty as far as the eye can see.
A cute little boy in uniform waved to me when I made eye contact from the bus. That stopped my tourist-ish reactions in a heartbeat as the realization sunk in... these people actually live like this every day. They don't know any different. They can't get away from it. If they saw my house, they'd think I'm a millionaire.
Pickup trucks with covered back-ends, called Tap-Taps, served as taxis. They flew past us in the other direction loaded with so many people that I thought they'd fall out. Traffic here is nuts... there seem to be no rules. You pass whenever you want and you drive as fast as you like... if a smaller car is coming towards you, they better get out of the way because the larger vehicle wins. Its like a giant game of drunk chicken!
There are animals here... skinny ones. Their ribs are all sticking out and visible under their skin. I saw skinny dogs, skinny cats, skinny pigs, skinny horses, skinny cows, and skinny goats. All of which, I've been told, get eaten when the people can't find other food.
Every few feet, there were people trying to sell things. They, along with the dirt and trash, lined the road. They were selling shoes, clothes, food, stereo parts, sugar cane, wood, tires... likely all of which belonged to someone else before. Nothing brand new (except for the sugar cane, perhaps). Everything dirty, everything worn out. Much like the people selling them.
We crossed a bridge over a running river of thick muddy water. Out my window, on the left of our school bus, I watched the "water" run over and past the piles of trash that served as a "shore". Sean tapped me on the shoulder and pointed out the other window on the right side of the bus. The grotesque water and garbage barely went noticed against the shacks. Again, more up close this time, were the rusted, metal, tiny boxes where people lived. It is an image I will never forget.
The air here stinks. It smells like body odor, sweat, dirt, urine, and decay. The smiles and excited reactions of the beautiful children that we passed were a distinct contrast to the smell. The two things didn't seem to make sense together. I suddenly got very homesick for the fresh mountain air I was breathing just a few days before during a hike in the Rockies. This was a whole different world from that which I was a part of last week.
A Tap-Tap passed us. On the side, the driver had painted "Merci Jesus" (Thank you Jesus).
Amen.
There were so many people in the streets. They watched us pass. I felt weird making eye contact... out of place, uncomfortable, and kind of guilty. I was, all the sudden, very aware of the diamond studs in my ears and the Tiffany's necklace around my throat and I was thankful that I decided to leave my diamond engagement ring in my jewelry box at home. I wonder what these people think when they look at me. I know they think I'm rich. I suppose I am, comparatively.
Most of the walls that flew past us as we drove were constructed of cement bricks. The tops of the walls were lined with elaborate loops of barbed wire. Many of the barbed wall-tops were also covered in broken glass. Hundreds of sharp, colorful, jagged glass edges from broken mirrors and bottles had been embedded into the cement before it dried, resulting in a very sharp (and incredibly intimidating) protection method.
A break in the walls caused me to look down. I saw, and made eye contact with, a little girl. I bet she was 2. She was exactly the same size as Marley. The girl was walking alone, barefoot, through piles of the trash and brokenness. I began to cry. The uncomfortable lump in my throat jumped right out and the tears couldn't be stopped. My first hour in Haiti was overwhelming. The tears start again now, as I think of the little girl. This is so not fair. And this was just the beginning... just the ride from the airport to our compound.
I have more to write about today but I need to sleep. Sean is already passed out and snoring (which he never does... we are just that tired!) We have a busy day tomorrow, so I better go to bed. Plus, the sun is gone and we may only have sporatic electricity, so my light (dim as it already is) won't likely be on for much longer.
Tonight, I pray again for our safety. (Hoping our two armed Haitian escorts and the guard at the entrance to our compound carrying the sawed-off shotgun will do the trick.) I also pray for my daughter, whom I miss so much I can hardly think of her without crying. And I pray that tomorrow God will open my eyes as I meet the people of Haiti. I pray that His will be done, not mine. And that He works in my heart this week, as difficult as it is going to be.
Time to sleep... finally!!!
Signing off at 7pm on Thursday evening, Haiti time.
-s
Want to help? Email me at sarajeanwrenn917@yahoo.com for more information.
Rejoice in confident hope. Be patient in trouble. AND KEEP ON PRAYING!!!
-Romans 12:12
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