A Journal From Haiti: Day 1, Part 1

A Journal from Haiti: Telling stories the world should hear.

Experiences and thoughts on the journey translated into words to the best of my ability.

6/22/13

Day 1, Part 1

A short 2 hours after my head hit the pillow, my alarm awakened me from a deep slumber. Though it was 4:30 in the morning, I jumped out of bed in total disbelief that this day had finally arrived. I have only been planning to go on this trip for less than 4 months, but this opportunity is something I have been preparing for my entire life. So much of the last 16 years has been leading me to this very moment.  It is a response to so many whys. A long-awaited hope and dream. A beginning for things to come. An answer to prayer. After a few last minute tasks, I headed out the door to the airport, full of anticipation and excitement for this short journey.

Now that I'm here in Haiti, this morning seems so very long ago. I don't even know where to begin...I've hardly taken any photos because they could never adequately capture this trip. I feel like I will never be  able to put the things I will see and experience here into words...but I want to share the stories of Haiti, of Leveque, and of my journey to this place I already love, so I will try.

I met up with Cally, Hayley, and Laura on our second (and final) flight out of Atlanta. When we landed in Port au Prince, we made our way apprehensively through customs. We rounded the corner past a band playing what can only be described as "island music" and came to a beautiful wall of photos where I learned (well inferred and later confirmed) that Haiti in Creole (Kreyol) is spelled "Ayiti.

We ventured downstairs where we turned in our Customs cards and entered a sea of people. The baggage area was completed packed. It was hot, chaotic, and overflowing with travelers attempting to collect their belongings. I seriously couldn't figure out where they had all come from. Were there that many people on our plane? It seemed impossible There had to be more planes? Like four or five more planes...right? Also did everyone (except me) on these planes check a bag!?

Because I had no bags to collect, I found a spot away as far away from the madness as possible to wait for the girls on my team. I sat on my suitcase soaking it all in. Their were Haitian families carrying bags overflowing with purchases revealing of their recent visits to Disneyworld and other tourist hotspots, but large groups of American church mission teams dominated the crowd. Teenage girls snapping photos and practicing the Haitian Creole written in their guide books. Their male counterparts collecting the teams' bags and boxes from the luggage carousel. The adults frantically trying to ensure that all persons and parcels were accounted for. The occasional Haitian businessmen donning designer suits sauntering comfortably through the sea of Americans while talking on his cell phone. With the exception of the absence of arrival and departure screens and other obvious technologies that one tends to see in this environment and a few of the sights upstairs, there was little indication that we were actually "here". We had yet to see anything reminiscent of the country we've all seen on television.

It's possible that, like those teenage girls, we took a selfie in the airport. 

After what seemed like a long time, the girls had their bags and we headed out to locate the people we knew 410 Bridge was sending to pick us up. On the other side of the doors we were met with our first glimpses of a country, language, and culture that were completely foreign to us. After our eyes had adjusted to the low lighting in the airport, the sun was so bright, I felt as if it were reflecting off the dirt beneath our feet. The heat, much more dry than what I had imagined, seemed to take my breath away. And the crowd was unexpected and overwhelming. We stayed close together and clung tightly to our bags, replying "No, mesi" to the endless supply of men offering their assistance, while scanning the area for the familiar 410 Bridge Logo. Somehow we forged a path through the people and located them:  Kathryn, our team leader, William, the deaf pastor in Leveque, and Watson, our interpreter.

We clambered into the van, immediately thankful for the refuge, water, and air conditioning. I was only slightly worried that my suitcase (which contained my passport, money, and camera!) had been thrown into an uncovered metal basket on the roof of the vehicle as we bounced along the road and on to the "highway"! We headed north to Cabaret and caught our first glimpses of Haiti along the way. I must admit I was immediately stunned at how beautiful this country is. Though there is rubble and trash, the mountains and sea are breathtaking.

We stopped at the mass grave on the way out of Port au Prince. The monument was inscribed with "12 janvier 2010 nou pap janm bliyew" (We will never forget you.) As we snapped pictures and stood trying to absorb it all, Kathryn reminded us that everyone we will meet was effected by the earthquake. It is estimated that 300,000 people died as a result of the quake. The death and destruction are truly inconceivable. This disaster has changed life for all Haitians.

As we stood at the monument, Watson began to tell us his story. He was in his house when the ground began to shake. At first he didn't know what was happening. He then realized it was an earthquake. The bottom floor of his home collapsed. Thankfully, he was upstairs. He ran into the street in shock. His girlfriend and many of his friends died. He told us, "I thought I was going to die. I thought it was the end. And I still don't know why I didn't--why I survived. But I know that God has a plan for my life." It's one thing to know that 300,000 people died in the earthquake. It's another to suddenly stand in a place where many of them are buried, hear a survivor's story, and know that his tale is just one of the many. Everyone in this beautiful country was impacted by this tragedy. That is something we will never truly be able to fathom.

While we were at the memorial children came from houses all around, asking for food and trying to pull my bracelet off my wrist. This was not my first encounter with this type of experience, but it honestly never gets easier. It is always heartbreaking to see such poverty, to see such need and be unable to do anything to help. I wanted to reach down and scoop them up. I'd like to think that's just basic human nature. I wanted to do something to help. But I knew I couldn't. Instead we got back in the van and watched the children grow smaller and smaller as we drove off into the distance toward our destination and the work we had come to do.