So we’ve been back from Haiti
for about a week now. Back to where a cool place can be found, back to running
water and warm showers. It is nice to be home.
It’s curious to me that, at
least in the short term, mosquitos, broken cars and dusty roads, leave the
deepest impressions of Haiti. These are the subjects of stories we tell upon
arriving back in the States. Eight hour waits while someone tracks down transportation
from Port-au-Prince to Pignon, hours on dusty roads where minimal air
conditioning feels like the greatest of blessings and legs dotted by mosquito
bites that with every scratch remind us we didn’t take malaria pills. These are
the memories that occupy the first days of being home. They have left their
mark and it is good to be home. It is
good to be comfortable, to be wrapped in all the things that we’ve become
accustom to.
Our Haiti trips are a chance
to step outside what our lives have become. A chance to reflect on why it is
that we have so much and others have so little. A time to realize that stuff
doesn’t equate to happiness or a fulfilled life. A chance to see old friends,
spend some time together and share how we have touched each other’s lives. A
chance to experience making a difference in a child’s life, in a community’s
wellbeing and in a student’s future.
Like each previous trip our
mornings and early afternoons were filled with energetic kids, singing songs
and doing craft projects at school. This year we made fans out of paper plates
and tongue depressors, about 50 kids got supplies to make their own jump rope,
we did a lot of coloring, we made edible bracelets with licorice whips and
fruit loops and had a giant bubble making session that the kids just loved.
During our “recess” the kids got to burn off some energy while the adults sat
in the shade and caught our breath. We did get plenty of opportunities to throw
Frisbees, kick a soccer ball and play catch. Many of the young students like to
hang around, and on, us during recess. We are still novel visitors to this
small town and we hesitantly enjoy the attention. Susan seems to be every
baby’s adopted grandmother and it is not uncommon for a baby to fall asleep in
her arms. This is a role that Susan seems to cherish. Tim keeps busy teaching
proper Frisbee techniques and intervening in the occasional scuffle. Anytime
the camera or video are taken out a chorus of, “mester, mester, photo” rings
out as dozens of kids rush to get in front of the lens. They are not shy. After
the photo, everyone grabs to see the picture while they laugh and point at the
image. Throughout the week one of the most popular points of interest is the
20” X 30” photo college we post from last year’s pictures. Students and parents
love to look at the images from previous years.
Again like last year, we had
six to seven young Haitian adults helping in the classroom. Without Jean-Ronel,
Benjamin, Fenel, Lenna, Marjorie, Sully and Chedlin we would not survive the first
two days. (It is being generous to
assume we’d survive the first day.) It is at school that the inability to speak
Kreyol or French is the largest detriment. We sometimes carry on conversations
with kids speaking Kreyol and us speaking English. The content of these conversations
is incomprehensible and unimportant. The connection is invaluable. With many
kids there is some basic communication that happens with a few words and lots
of gesturing. With others the communication is simply holding hands, placing
your hand on a shoulder or opening your lap as a comfortable resting spot.
It is the moments at school;
those hot, dusty, tiring moments that are the memories that last beyond the
first week’s return. It’s 250 Haitian kids screaming “OUI…OUI…OUI” when asked
if they want to sing the Hokey-Pokey again, it’s the smile of a young boy who
just figured out how to throw the Frisbee, it’s a small baby surrendering
itself into your arms, it’s seeing families drink fresh clean water from the
new well, it’s young girls posing for a photo with their best friends and it is
hearing from our Haitian friends how our time together has changed their lives.
I’m not sure we can
successfully convey to them how much they have changed our lives. Our trips to
Haiti have been profound. In a country where there is so much need we have
found friends that will give up what little they have so we can be comfortable.
They are gracious, generous, engaging and trusting. I often wonder if they
would enjoy the same reception visiting our country.
Two days after we returned
and after telling the car, road and mosquito stories to a close friend he
asked, “Why do you put yourself through this?” It was a simple question that
stopped me cold. It is a question that we regularly ask ourselves throughout
the week in Haiti. I’m sure it is a question we’ll ask ourselves again.
The answer is simple, we do
this because it makes a difference. It makes a difference in our lives and more
importantly it makes a positive difference in others lives. It is our way of
creating a ripple that will touch more people than we can ever imagine. Thank
you all for supporting us and giving us this amazing opportunity.
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