Hard to Find the Words

11pm

We are here at the hotel. I'm warding off any mosquitoes that might be carrying malaria (hence, all mosquitoes), while writing from the satisfying accommodations in Saint Marc, Haiti. It's one of the nicest looking buildings around (which is not saying a whole lot) and I am feeling quite blessed.

Thankfully, we met up with the rest of our group and to His mercies, all their bags made it through – including the medical supplies which we will need for tomorrows clinic.

Grandma rides in the back

We left an airport through a crowd of people, a couple of which followed and insisted on putting our bags in the two awaiting trucks for us...then insisted on at least 20$. Crowding in one vehicle is obviously no issue when I took a look at my surroundings. The youth pastor, Galilee, had a bus waiting for the 17 of us. We gratefully crowded in, Sarah, Steph and I all sitting on the bags in the back and holding onto the seats behind us. The back doors of the bus didn't really close, so in case of a sudden swing-open session...we didn't want to end up on the road – which by the way, lacks any sort of regulation.

There are no road lines. It's every man for himself. It's like an open playing field. If you can squeeze between two trucks, go for it. If you can fit three more men hanging off your back hitch, then do it! If grandma isn't going to fit up front with the boys, let her ride off the side of the truck. Do whatever gets your through...and make sure you honk a lot when you want to pass. You don't want to hit any oncoming cars, motorcycles, mules, people...etc. Oh, and watch out for the homemade road bumps...they can be a real shocker.

We rented three vehicles and after piling in quite snug, we were off to Saint-Marcs which is about two hours away. The sights were like none I've ever seen. All those pictures you see in national geographic or in the magazine were back in front of our eyes, except we were looking from the window of our rental.

Normal sights in Haiti

We passed fields that were lined with rows and rows of makeshift tents. Scraps of metal and cardboard to make what they called home. Children washing and playing in the dirt. Countless young people roaming the roads near what they had made their home. A girl pushing an older man across a lawn of rocks and dirt – he had no legs.

Words don't do the situation justice and I have a hard time describing the level of poverty we find ourselves in. It's like Steph said – we are like fish in a fishbowl. It certainly felt that way as we drove through town after town and as we surveyed the situation, everyone watched the “white people” pass by. I felt protected by the situation – somehow here but disconnected, surrounded and safe.

I don't blame them if they watch and think to themselves, “there they go, off to do their good deed of the year.” It must certainly seem like that. There is so so little impact we can make on their lives. This is the way it is. I'm realizing the most you could ever bring them is Christ's love and what He gives. The impact given, will be from them to us. Our lives touched even more than theirs.

After checking in at the hotel, which now is certainly a resort after all we saw, we headed downstairs for our first meal.

Being who I am, I skipped the chicken and headed for the rice and homemade potato fries. It looked like a good bet and I was ready for a meal after being in the airport for two days.

That rice...

“Do you smell that?” Steph's nose was slightly crinkling. “It kind of smells like cow.”

“No, more like manure.” I said, digging into my first bite of rice.

Sure enough, it hit me right on the palate. The rice tasted quite identical to the smell of manure when you drive through a country field. You must understand that I am not a picky eater – I even tried it once more, to make sure I wasn't overly sensitive. Nope. It wasn't my imagination. I loaded up on the potato fries and added a little chicken to the meal.

Following supper, we took a trip to the YFC (Youth For Christ) base. To get there, we drove through these dirt back alleyways, with kids playing and youth on motorcycles. It was a building behind a locked concrete gate.

Not long after we arrived and hopped out, a little boy popped his head around, shyly grinning. A little attention, some photos taken, and it wasn't long before there were twenty kids running around in the YFC yard, doing handstands and climbing on our shoulders. Their smiles were enough to tug on any of our hearts as we twirled them in the air and made up games for them to play. Older people of the community (perhaps parents and grandparents) came to watch us with the kids in the yard. Some with smiles as big as the children's.

We'll be back at the base tomorrow to see 100 patients at the makeshift clinic we're setting up. One doctor, three student nurses and one studying medicine. I have no idea how this will go. So far God's plans have greatly differentiated from our own, but we can trust Him.