Journals from Haiti

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!