Tuesday dawned hot as usual in Haiti. We enjoy beautiful breakfasts here in the morning and some of our team usually volunteer to help make them, which is fun to serve alongside the Haitian help – Natasha, Phoenicia and Woodley. My 6 years of French are paying off here in Haiti, even though they speak Creole, I can get by much better than others because the locals can usually pick up the meaning of the basics I can muster in French!
Although it certainly makes me realize the power of immersion in language like my daughter has had, because if you don’t use it you lose it!
Another reason the breakfasts are large is that we don’t eat “lunch” as we are out in the field and we have snacks. Granola bars, peanuts, beef jerky and gatorade sustain us over the lunch break between stops so far.
After breakfast Tuesday, we began our work for the day – distributing water via the Healing Haiti (HH) water truck in the Cite Soleil. Cite Soleil is the “slums” of Port au Prince. Many mission groups will not go there, and if they do it’s the water trucks that cost 50 cents a bucket (the citizens might make only $1.00 a day!) that used to go there. HH now is able to provide FREE WATER and runs different routes every day.
We meet the water truck at the dispensing station and we follow them to our destination in the “tap tap” our HH transportation for the week. When we arrive we are instantly surrounded with little children that either want to be held or want our simple cross necklaces, bandanas or sunglasses we wear. It is a bit daunting the first trip, but within minutes the boys are holding (awkwardly until they get the hang of it) little ones eager for their attention and affection. Often we find they choose a favorite and cling to you the whole time! We visit and jump rope and then we take a brief walk to the outer area of the “village” we are in where we begin to sing some songs and pray in a circle.
I find myself drawn to the teenage girls who shy away from the people, but look on with interest. One girl tells me in Creole “malade” which means she is sick. She has open sores on her arms and they are covered with white ointment which I presume is zinc oxide. I see her early on, and then I see her again outside the village on our walkabout. She and a friend are outside the circle so I leave the group to join them. I ask her if I can pray by using my hand signals and showing my cross necklace. Her friend shakes a head, but she is nodding and so I motion I will speak and she listen by pointing. She nodded her head and I put my arms around her (and her friend!) and pray in English to the God who knows all. I ask for healing and strength and courage. I ask for God to show himself to her. It is over in a moment and I realized I’ve just walked on Holy Ground – even though all around me is broken glass, sewage, and garbage of all kinds. Literally.
God is so good to allow us a moment in time where we recognize his sovereignty, and I won’t soon forget this young lady or her beautiful wounded arms I held in mine. He is in control, I am just a servant praying to do his will and work with courage.
We leave this small area and go close by for our first water dispensing (the first area had water the day before so we just visited). The line begins within seconds of the truck stopping. People lining up with every available container they have (5 gallon pails are most common). The jobs are varied, but a few people hold the hose that is pouring water out of the truck and others keep the line orderly and move buckets ahead. It moves very quickly and for the most part people are very familiar with how this works and help us help them. Others hold babies and little ones or play jump rope. Some use water cups to give sips to children or even pour water on those dirty, hot littles that are clinging to us now.
In all we make three trips like this in the day, each with their own personality. Some areas they ask for help to carry the buckets to their “house” concrete building about 6 x 8 maybe some with roofs some with tarps or metal for covering. Our boys are amazing in this capacity and walk helping the women with their buckets, with an adult not far behind at all times. We go with 5 local Haitian people who are now on staff for HH, and they know these parts, as they live there themselves. They recognize when we’ve walked far enough, and tell us to put down the bucket, making the people carry on their own the rest of the way. Other children put the bucket on the top of their head, first winding up a cloth and placing it on their head, then we help them lift it (40# maybe?) to their head and off they go. A simple merci (thank you) and they are on their way.
It makes your heart wanna stop beating if you stop too long and think about where you are and what everyone’s “story” is. We forge ahead, and after each stop we follow the water truck back to the central water station and replenish our fluids ourselves and eat some snacks. Then we go again.
The third stop today was the “roughest” as there were many people trying to budge in line (some things are universal!!) and I was managing the crowd and pushing the buckets forward during that whole stop. One time we had to turn the water off completely until they could restore order. Even though there were some aggressive ones, for the most part they are entirely grateful and respectful. I feel like this is the perfect job for me, traffic cop – even though one boy must have tried to put his bucket in my line at least 6 times and I have to say “Alle” (Ah Lay) to him = GO! was so hard. The rules must be followed or everyone will begin to riot. I will never forget the boy’s blue shirt and his face, but I did what I had to do. If only he had waited in line he would have gotten his bucket filled, because everyone that waited got filled today.
After we returned to the guest house and slowly circulated our 18 people through the 2 showers, we rested and recovered from a DIRTY, LONG, HOT day in the sun (Soleil means sun!) Everyone shared their stories as we blog, email, rest and relax. Some tie handmade name tags on shoes for our trip to Grace Village on Friday where all the 62 orphans there will get new shoes from the US. (thank you friends!)
After dinner our teenagers are restless, so we decide to go up the street nearby to see if the children want to play. We finally manage to blow up a kickball and then a game of soccer ensues with our team (USA) vs. the Haitians. We played for 45 minutes at least and the joyful screams and laughter we have is awesome, All we need is some kids, a ball and a few rocks for goals and we can cross a cultural gap in seconds.
It is a holy privilege to witness and be part of this journey. I remain mostly speechless (despite the commentary here) to describe what it is like to be with these people. More tomorrow (and know I’m a day behind as I write it is now day 3, but there’s so much to do!)