Haiti Trip - Sept 3, 2011
"My daughter, if you accept my words and store up my commands within you, turning your ear to wisdom and applying your heart to understanding - indeed if you call out for insight and cry aloud for understanding, and if you look for it as for silver and search for it as for hidden treasure, then you will understand the fear of the LORD and find the knowledge of God." - Prov 2:1-5
My flight from Florida to Haiti could have gone badly were it not for a small voice prodding at my heart...
After lugging my suitcase down past the first couple rows on the plane, I realized quickly that the overhead bins were filling up fast. Sure enough, by the time I reached my seat, mine was already taken. After struggling back up the aisle, and squeezing past a couple disgruntled Haitian gentlemen, I managed to slide it into a small space. Walking back to my seat, I realized that there was a woman sitting in Jay's window seat. She had made herself quite comfortable and was doing her best to ignore us. Jay politely pointed out that she was in his seat and with much huffing, and a grim expression, she got up to accomodate. When we sat back down, Jay was at the window, I was in the middle with the woman beside me.
As I sat there, I began to wish that things hadn't started off this way, as I had hoped to make a friend on the trip. A small voice said, "Compliment her." I glanced sideways, looking for something to compliment. She was wearing a beautiful multi-colored scarf. Tapping her on the shoulder, I smiled and said warmly, "I love your scarf it's very beautiful." In an instant, her whole face changed. Her eyes lit up and a smile stretched across her face. She introduced herself as Memose. She was on her way to Haiti to see her family. As we chatted, she noticed I had my Bible out, and we started talking about our beliefs. She told me of her trust in Jesus and asked me about my work with Young Life. We were handed forms to fill out that were only in French. Memose helped me translate and fill mine out. After a time, she smiled and said she was going to sleep and to wake her up when we landed. I began to journal and pray for this wonderful woman who had just become a friend.
When we landed, Memose wished Jay and I well, and we said goodbye. It struck me how different the trip would have been had we sat in an uncomfortable silence, content to be strangers even as our shoulders touched.
..................................................................................................
I am standing in the Port-au-Prince airport, waiting for Rick to come back from seeing Jay off. Jay is going to Jeremie airport to see if he can fix the plane we came to Haiti to pick up. They are armed with a bag of tools, and a box of bottled water. They had hoped to transport a generator, but it will not fit and as a result I am guarding it.
It is quite humid. My hair has risen like a loaf of bread, despite my desperate attempts to pin it down. And so I have given up. I suppose I will be a sweaty frizzy mess for the most part of this trip, which is fine by me. Haitian men openly stare at me, speaking in creole, and giggling, and gesturing. Occasionally, one will stroll up, pointing to my bags and asking a question. I wave them away with a smile, and an "No, merci." I would probably stare too at a white frizzy-haired girl with a huge generator. I want to film but am shy to point my camera - it seems too personal. And so I wait, and pretend to look at my phone, while watching the people around me.
Rick comes back and we hop into a large cage-like truck with all our bags. We are on our way back to the missionary house where we will be staying. I feel a bit like a sack of potatoes - bouncing around the truck as we seem to aim for every pothole on the road. It's fun - kind of like four wheeling. We pass noisy crowds, and it appears that anything goes when it comes to traffic, from roaring ahead on whatever side you choose, to practically sitting on your horn every five secs, to packing as many people as you please on a tiny motorcycle. There is so much to look at - I can't seem to take it all in.
People line the streets, waiting for tap-taps (taxis), selling their goods - some just sitting in the heat. We pass a small tent on the side of the road with someone's foot sticking out of it. It seems impossible that a grown person could fit in there, but yet they have. Filming proves to be difficult, what with the cage, and the constant jerking and bouncing along but I resolve to do it anyway as I wanted to capture Haiti - and this is certainly Haiti.
After a while, we turn right and continue up a road - if you can even call it a road. Piles of rocks, and gravel line the sides. We pass goats meandering along as if they haven't a care in the world. No owners in sight. The rocky slopes have trails that start with gravel and transform into grassy paths, with trees, and bushes, and the occasional cow blocking the trail. We then start up a steep hill until we reach a yellow house with a large gate around it. We drive up to a precarious spot, and then our driver, John, backs in. I sigh with relief when we stop - surprised that the generator, suitcases, Rick, and myself managed to somehow not go tumbling down the hillside.
.........................................................................
I'm sitting on the porch of the missionary house. It feels exotic as you can see for miles - mountains, crumbling houses, trails, and loads of gated houses. It is as hot as ever and the house is filled with fans. It walls are brightly coloured and it has an open feel to it. Rick and I decide to walk up the hill to see our surroundings. I grab my camera and we are off. The place is a photography paradise - tons of old crumbly mansions everywhere and I think back to former explorations of old buildings in the states - these ones put those to shame. We pass gates strewn with flowers, vines creeping up and over to hide these massive hidden houses.
We make friends with a small goat. Rather - Rick terrifies it and I take pictures. It settles down and seems to like the attention. On our way back, a young Haitian woman pops out from behind a gate. We say, Bonjour, and Rick struggles to form some sentences. Before long, a whole family of Haitians are standing before us, smiling shyly, and greeting us. It is not two minutes before the girl asks me, "Facebook" - I reply with surprise, "Oui" and I promptly write down my fb name. She gives me hers and we smile as if we are best friends. We exchanged a few more broken English-French sentences, and Rick and I wave goodbye and promise to visit again.
..............................................................................
I'm in my room, prepping to go to sleep. It's a decent sized room with two beds. I have thoroughly checked both for bedbugs and it appears that the one on the far side has potential and so I leave that bed for Jay. My room has mosquito nets and fans so I feel safe for the night. It's been a full day. It's always strange to start off a day in one country, spend the afternoon in another, and then the night in yet another. Jay is spending the night in Haiti. Sadly, the plane engine is toast and they will have to find a new one. We're at loss for what to do - but tomorrow is another day and I am confident that God will work it out.
"My daughter, if you accept my words and store up my commands within you, turning your ear to wisdom and applying your heart to understanding - indeed if you call out for insight and cry aloud for understanding, and if you look for it as for silver and search for it as for hidden treasure, then you will understand the fear of the LORD and find the knowledge of God." - Prov 2:1-5
My flight from Florida to Haiti could have gone badly were it not for a small voice prodding at my heart...
After lugging my suitcase down past the first couple rows on the plane, I realized quickly that the overhead bins were filling up fast. Sure enough, by the time I reached my seat, mine was already taken. After struggling back up the aisle, and squeezing past a couple disgruntled Haitian gentlemen, I managed to slide it into a small space. Walking back to my seat, I realized that there was a woman sitting in Jay's window seat. She had made herself quite comfortable and was doing her best to ignore us. Jay politely pointed out that she was in his seat and with much huffing, and a grim expression, she got up to accomodate. When we sat back down, Jay was at the window, I was in the middle with the woman beside me.
As I sat there, I began to wish that things hadn't started off this way, as I had hoped to make a friend on the trip. A small voice said, "Compliment her." I glanced sideways, looking for something to compliment. She was wearing a beautiful multi-colored scarf. Tapping her on the shoulder, I smiled and said warmly, "I love your scarf it's very beautiful." In an instant, her whole face changed. Her eyes lit up and a smile stretched across her face. She introduced herself as Memose. She was on her way to Haiti to see her family. As we chatted, she noticed I had my Bible out, and we started talking about our beliefs. She told me of her trust in Jesus and asked me about my work with Young Life. We were handed forms to fill out that were only in French. Memose helped me translate and fill mine out. After a time, she smiled and said she was going to sleep and to wake her up when we landed. I began to journal and pray for this wonderful woman who had just become a friend.
When we landed, Memose wished Jay and I well, and we said goodbye. It struck me how different the trip would have been had we sat in an uncomfortable silence, content to be strangers even as our shoulders touched.
..................................................................................................
I am standing in the Port-au-Prince airport, waiting for Rick to come back from seeing Jay off. Jay is going to Jeremie airport to see if he can fix the plane we came to Haiti to pick up. They are armed with a bag of tools, and a box of bottled water. They had hoped to transport a generator, but it will not fit and as a result I am guarding it.
It is quite humid. My hair has risen like a loaf of bread, despite my desperate attempts to pin it down. And so I have given up. I suppose I will be a sweaty frizzy mess for the most part of this trip, which is fine by me. Haitian men openly stare at me, speaking in creole, and giggling, and gesturing. Occasionally, one will stroll up, pointing to my bags and asking a question. I wave them away with a smile, and an "No, merci." I would probably stare too at a white frizzy-haired girl with a huge generator. I want to film but am shy to point my camera - it seems too personal. And so I wait, and pretend to look at my phone, while watching the people around me.
Rick comes back and we hop into a large cage-like truck with all our bags. We are on our way back to the missionary house where we will be staying. I feel a bit like a sack of potatoes - bouncing around the truck as we seem to aim for every pothole on the road. It's fun - kind of like four wheeling. We pass noisy crowds, and it appears that anything goes when it comes to traffic, from roaring ahead on whatever side you choose, to practically sitting on your horn every five secs, to packing as many people as you please on a tiny motorcycle. There is so much to look at - I can't seem to take it all in.
People line the streets, waiting for tap-taps (taxis), selling their goods - some just sitting in the heat. We pass a small tent on the side of the road with someone's foot sticking out of it. It seems impossible that a grown person could fit in there, but yet they have. Filming proves to be difficult, what with the cage, and the constant jerking and bouncing along but I resolve to do it anyway as I wanted to capture Haiti - and this is certainly Haiti.
After a while, we turn right and continue up a road - if you can even call it a road. Piles of rocks, and gravel line the sides. We pass goats meandering along as if they haven't a care in the world. No owners in sight. The rocky slopes have trails that start with gravel and transform into grassy paths, with trees, and bushes, and the occasional cow blocking the trail. We then start up a steep hill until we reach a yellow house with a large gate around it. We drive up to a precarious spot, and then our driver, John, backs in. I sigh with relief when we stop - surprised that the generator, suitcases, Rick, and myself managed to somehow not go tumbling down the hillside.
.........................................................................
I'm sitting on the porch of the missionary house. It feels exotic as you can see for miles - mountains, crumbling houses, trails, and loads of gated houses. It is as hot as ever and the house is filled with fans. It walls are brightly coloured and it has an open feel to it. Rick and I decide to walk up the hill to see our surroundings. I grab my camera and we are off. The place is a photography paradise - tons of old crumbly mansions everywhere and I think back to former explorations of old buildings in the states - these ones put those to shame. We pass gates strewn with flowers, vines creeping up and over to hide these massive hidden houses.
We make friends with a small goat. Rather - Rick terrifies it and I take pictures. It settles down and seems to like the attention. On our way back, a young Haitian woman pops out from behind a gate. We say, Bonjour, and Rick struggles to form some sentences. Before long, a whole family of Haitians are standing before us, smiling shyly, and greeting us. It is not two minutes before the girl asks me, "Facebook" - I reply with surprise, "Oui" and I promptly write down my fb name. She gives me hers and we smile as if we are best friends. We exchanged a few more broken English-French sentences, and Rick and I wave goodbye and promise to visit again.
..............................................................................
I'm in my room, prepping to go to sleep. It's a decent sized room with two beds. I have thoroughly checked both for bedbugs and it appears that the one on the far side has potential and so I leave that bed for Jay. My room has mosquito nets and fans so I feel safe for the night. It's been a full day. It's always strange to start off a day in one country, spend the afternoon in another, and then the night in yet another. Jay is spending the night in Haiti. Sadly, the plane engine is toast and they will have to find a new one. We're at loss for what to do - but tomorrow is another day and I am confident that God will work it out.
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