Journals from Haiti

Pat advised us not to let anyone carry our bags. One man took a couple before we could do anything, so the men tipped him. The security people searched through our bags, unwrapping souvenirs as if with great suspicion. I accidentally checked my carry-on but Allan helped me get it back.

We said goodbye to Pat with hugs and thanks, then went to get our passports stamped and wait. The people who had come with us were leaving with us also. We went out to wait under the wing. I took a few more photos and we boarded the plane.

This time I had a seat by the window, and I kept my eyes on it for a long time. I took a few last photos, then settled in and listened to NeedtoBreathe’s “The Heat,” comforting myself with the thought that even though I wasn’t in Haiti anymore, I wasn’t anywhere else yet either. Maybe I’d be back someday. “Si Dieu vlé.” If God wills.

I observed the unknown islands below and thought about who I’d miss. I read Psalm 84, reminding myself that wherever I am, I am in the Lord’s dwelling place. That is all I need.

I went downstairs to have coffee while Jovite ate. This would be the last time. He asked when we were leaving and I told him. A small rodent scurried along the edge of the kitchen floor, and he pointed and said “sourit,” then asked “rat?” and I nodded. He asked if I would come back next year - I hope so. Then if I liked Haiti and why - the people, and it is very beautiful. Pat reminded him not to forget his tie as he got up to leave for seminary. He shook my hand and said goodbye, and something in Creole. Pat translated, “greet your family for me.”

Soon the rest of us gathered at the table for blueberry pancakes, bananas, and juice. We paid Pat for our stay and gave her our extra money to use as she saw fit. She mentioned Jovite’s house and a roof for Pastor DeGonzaque’s house and was very surprised and thankful.

I’d been very careful about water but caught a bug anyway, so I told Pat. She told me what meds to take but said it happens a lot here and I’d be fine.

Enoch came up to say goodbye. He had to leave for something but knew we were flying out today and wanted to see us first. He hugged me. I will miss his kindness and funny comments.
I finished snipping threads off the new curtains, got ready, packed, and read the Bible, then went downstairs.

Clark showed me, on a map, some of the places where he looks for artifacts. He is very much into archaelogy and had told us about Columbus’s landing on Haiti. Someone asked if it was safe to say no one had gotten sick. I reluctantly admitted that I was, and Abby, ironically, had gotten a cold.

Pat took us to a store to get more vanilla for a few of us, and a woman named Suzie came with very nice wares that a few of us bought some of. The daughter of Claudette, the cook, also visited.

We had our last meal together - spaghetti with meat sauce, peas, and cole slaw - and about five minutes later it was time to load the truck. We gathered for one last photo and said goodbye. I tried to take in everything as if for the last time, but said to myself, “God willing, I’ll be back again.” We saw one last U.N. tank on the way to the airport.

Back at the Moores’ I finished the curtains and read the Bible. We met a Canadian missionary family at La Kay for burgers. I got a “sandwich au poulet” (chicken sandwich), which was really good, and we got ice cream afterward. We hurried home because it looked like rain, and the Canadian family came with us for a visit.

Abby and I went upstairs but were soon called down to show the curtains. Jovite and Mène had come too. She greeted us with a proper kiss on the cheek (”la bise,” as I later learned in French), and thanked us. I think she liked them. David took pictures of Jovite and Mène together and they laughed. They prefer serious photos, but their smiles were so big and beautiful.

Jovite went to get wedding invitations and gave one to each of us. We wouldn’t be there, but I was delighted to have one anyway.

The guests soon left, except for Jovite, who came back looking slightly dejected. He sat while we conversed (in English of course). Allan read to us, from a book whose name I forget (but I think I would like it), about not only doing what God wants, but wanting it ourselves, and how that can change your whole walk with Christ. We should be honest with God and ask Him to change our desires when they don’t align with His.

We discussed the study, shared thoughts about the trip, and worked out money details. I gave Clark my last chocolate bar. Apparently it was the perfect thing, and I hadn’t even planned that. I also gave Pat the soaps I’d bought as gifts, and they both really appreciated them. David and I shared information about other projects.

I heard another U.N. tank and ran to the doorway to watch it pass. Much of the vehicle was obscured by trees, but I could distinguish camo and blue helmets. I returned with a smile, and soon left to get ready for bed, glad there was still power so I could see.

After coming home, we decided to rest for about an hour before going to the market where we’d buy most of our souvenirs.

The market, a little way down the road from the Moores’ house, was a long line of small connected stalls, each with a number. Some shops were completely full of paintings - beautiful, vivid masterpieces of varying colors and styles. Others had clothing, jewelry, stone carvings, and other trinkets. Some had a variety.

I looked at the jewelry and carved turtles in a few shops and said I would keep looking and come back. I wanted to see everything before I decided. I ended up buying some jewelry for my mom, my sister, and myself, and a carved stone turtle, both in other shops. The stone merchant carved my name in the turtle.

We were heading toward the entrance to leave when one of the previous merchants ran up to me with a turtle all ready in a bag, offering it at a lower price. I hadn’t come back, and now I had no money left. I apologized but felt horrible. I’d spoken casually, not meaning to lie, but you really have to mean what you say here.

As we walked out, Pat said there was a U.N. tank approaching. I called “hola!” and waved. Most of them only looked at us and maybe smiled. My eyes followed the vehicle, searching for someone I recongnized. In the back of the tank, one soldier with sunglasses and a familiar face raised his hand in salute.

“Ki jan ou ye?” (How are you?) said Jovite when I came downstairs in the morning. “Byen,” I replied. Pat was impressed. She wanted to know if I could ask him back, and I did. I got some coffee and sat down across from Jovite, and Pat told him to practice his English with me. She told him in Creole to tell me in English that his “mennaj” (girlfriend), Mène might come over later. I was excited for her to see the curtains. Pat continued to speak to him in Creole and he replied with deep “mmhmm”s. He ate and left for seminary.

Then rest of us had breakfast - eggs, toast, and fresh papaya - and David read from a book called “So You Want to Be Like Christ?” that had very good insights about simplicity.

Several of us went back to the clinic. The men had to get their supplies and I wanted to see Valerie and the children again. We stopped on the way for some 2×4’s, I think 18 feet long, and I took a turn carrying them back to the truck. The Haitian men looked impressed that a twiggy female “blan” was helping carry lumber, and I admit I enjoyed that far too much. While we waited, David and I had an interesting conversation about photography, journalism, the Middle East, and infuriating liberal news media.

We picked up Camila and saw some U.N. vehicles (Ron waved to a soldier but I was on the other side of the car). Valerie wasn’t there at the usual spot, but we found him when we got there and he helped us unload wood.

Some little children gradually congregated by a nearby tree and began calling me by name. I soon went over and said “bonjou.” One of them took my sunglasses and they began playfully fighting over them, each wanting to try them on. Fabienne wanted to keep them but I figured I would need them, and I had something else to give her before we left.

Photo by David Clinard.

Back at Pat and Clark’s, we had a lunch of sandwiches and bananas with Enoch, then we thanked each other and he left.

I journalled a little and then sent a long update to my parents, who had each emailed me. Abby and I finished the bandanas, then worked on curtain’s for “La Kay Jovite.”

Soon we went downstairs and had a very nice dinner of salad with cucumbers and tomatoes, cheese melts, a thick soup with pumpkin broth, beef, and vegetables, crackers, and for dessert, cherry cheesecake. We had Hudson, who’d spoken at the fellowship, and his wife Lucy, as guests. Hudson told amazing stories about his family, and when we migrated to the deck to continue, he talked about their 40-some years in Haiti as missionaries. Allan told some of his story as well.

After our guests left, Enoch was downstairs eating so I went down to journal in the light. I was sad that I wouldn’t get to say goodbye to Alain, who’d been called to Port-au-Prince for some emergency. Eventually everyone trickled downstairs and we got talking.

Allan told us he’d seen a Haitian woman in the store, gesturing that he had a big nose, and he’d thought she was saying he smelled bad. I said I was surprised that no one had done that to me. My sister always makes fun of my nose because it’s pointy. Someone asked about my siblings and we discovered that Clark had gone to the same college as my brother. We talked about California and they asked about Abby’s siblings. Pat asked if I had connections in Florida because then I’d have all four corners covered. No, but I had two Army friends who’d trained in Georgia.

I saw a spider, a daddy long legs I think, and I caught it and put it outside. David lent me a headlamp for my “important rescue mission.” Everyone gradually left and I sat there writing, noticing the neighbor lady’s loud, malodorous generator. My eyelids were drooping and I eventually went to get ready for bed.

Eventually Enoch arrived. He had offered to take us on a walking tour of the city, and also to serve as our translator so we could visit the man in the hospital. Once we were all ready, David, Abby, and I accompanied Enoch. A little way down the road, I realized I’d forgotten my camera and I’m very glad I went back for it.

As we walked, Enoch pointed out various structures and told us about them. He took us to the city square where the immense white cathedral stood with its dark-colored domes. He led us up the steps to the great wooden doors, and there he spoke to a nearby Haitian man. They were most likely speaking Creole, not English, but he told us afterward what was said. The man apparently did not appreciate our presence. He thought we were just rich Americans who didn’t care about Haiti. Enoch tried to explain that we were there to help.

When we arrived at the hospital, the injured man lay, still on the door, on the ground outside the hospital. He and his family were waiting for transport to another facility for x-rays, because this hospital was on strike. With Enoch translating, David told the family we were very concerned and would pray for him. He must have been so uncomfortable - David said he could get bed sores just from lying on that hard surface for so long.

As we went on, I heard Enoch say “hola” to a passing Hispanic-looking woman. I asked if he spoke Spanish and he said he’d had to learn it because he went to the Dominican Republic for a while. I told him about my three years of high school Spanish that I’d largely forgotten.

We passed a Catholic school, where I took a photo looking over the city. I have come to the love corrugated tin rooftops, red with rust or paint.

On the way back, Enoch challenged us to a tour of the crowded marketplace. He led us down a packed street and through a vast network of merchants, some with tables, some with their wares arrayed on the ground. They sold seemingly everything from raw food staples and produce to manufactured clothing and accessories. We were almost shoulder to shoulder with masses of people traveling both directions through narrow pathways between the merchants. He said afterward that we were brave.

We also stopped at a small bookstore on the way back to buy the Creole Bibles we’d seen there when we were heading out.

After a breakfast of French toast, the men were working on a house behind the Moores’ from Jovite and Mène. We went outside to watch and possibly help.

Soon Pat had a sewing project for Abby and me. David had brought three pieces of colorful fabric. We used two to make wall hangings for two schools, and the other we cut into triangles and made small bandanas for the children to wear.

Once when we were downstairs talking to Pat, she said, “Come here, girls. Look what God did.” I was amazed that He’d made the rusty old sewing machine work, but she had something else in mind. She took us to a storeroom in the back of the house where there was medicine and supplies covering the table and filling tubs on the floor. Another medical missions team had given the leftovers from their trip, about ten times what was stolen!

David prayed over our meal and we enjoyed good food and interesting conversation. Afterward there was time for much-needed showers, journalling, and reading. I sat a lone for a few minutes, just thinking about the day’s events, and felt completely overwhelmed with mixed emotions. I fought back tears as one thought rose from the others - I don’t want to leave here.

Eventually we all trickled downstairs and Abby led a study of Mark 11. We wondered why Jesus had withered the fig tree that wouldn’t produce figs; it wasn’t the season for figs. Everyone seemed to have different ideas. Abby thought Jesus was using it as a teaching opportunity to show that God always does what He promises, even when we doubt. Pat read from another source that the fig tree symbolizes Jerusalem. Enoch, who had come for a visit just in time to join in, said that Jesus was simply hungry. Alain, who had also arrived at an opportune time, explained that the fig tree showed that we should not have false appearances. If we appear fruitful, we should be fruitful. Jovite was present but is shy about speaking English.

Our conversation progressed to other things like Enoch’s gardening and how to stop the theif at the clinic, and we learned a Creole song. Everyone began to leave but I stayed and wrote for a long time while Alain performed surgery on Pat’s camera and Allan read.

I thanked God for his amazing blessings to us throughout the trip and asked Him to be with us as we went forward.

A few of the girls suddenly lead me to the road. A procession of Haitians was walking down the road to the clinic, and I could soon see that they were carrying an elderly man on a door. As we joined the crowd that had gathered at the clinic to watch, a few people questioned the girls about the “blans” they were with. Some smiled.

David, who is a doctor, took charge as they cleared out the back of Pat and Clark’s pickup to make room for the man. They carefully laid him, still on the door, flat across the bed of the truck. The man’s family and Pastor Dorlean rode in the back with him, so the six of us who were traveling back to Pat’s house piled into the cab. I sat on the console, and Valery had to walk home. I waved to him sadly as we passed. It wasn’t far to his home but I didn’t think I’d see him again.

Apparently the man had fallen - from fairly high, a tree or a church roof or something - and injured his back. He couldn’t feel his legs. The people had carried him from his home in the mountains, probably at least a mile away. We had the only vehicle nearby.

It was a long, bumpy ride to Justinian Hospital in Cap Haitien, not far from the Moores’ home. David grimaced for the injured man as we jolted over a particularly large pothole. I felt the same. I could tell David and Abby understood more than I did about the man’s condition.

When we finally arrived at the hospital they took him inside and the family thanked us. I saw a boy waiting outside with a cardboard splint on his arm. He was crying and his mother, holding him, was crying too. I wondered how long they’d been waiting.

David seemed reluctant to leave. I think as a doctor, he felt compelled to do something more to help. He told me, back in the truck, about the deplorable conditions inside the hospital.