That Time I Went to Haiti (2 weeks ago): What I Learned

The Beach

As I peered out my window from Miami to Port-au-Prince, I began to see the dusty brown mountains of the island of Hispaniola. We were nearing Haiti. As I stepped off the plane, I had flashbacks to Uganda. But, it wasn’t quite the same. We actually got into an airport and there was air conditioning there. Exhausted from waking up at 2:30 am, I stepped outside and was bombarded with the 95 degree heat, a stark contrast from 25 degrees it had been a mere 4 hours earlier in New Orleans.

We began the hour-long drive from Port-au-Prince to Gressier and suddenly saw the immense poverty. It was similar to Uganda, but more intense. And close. We didn’t take a 16-hour plane ride to a land far, far away. It struck me that this place, a whole different world, was only about an hour and 45-minute plane ride from Miami. Just slightly longer than my flights from Dallas to Baton Rouge. When we got to Respire Haiti: check out (respirehaiti.org and blessedwithaburden.blogspot.com) I instantly made some new friends, because of the lovely bouncy balls my brother donated. Once they figured out I spoke French, I became even more popular and every time they saw a car they yelled my name.

Over the next week, I took 30 second freezing cold showers every day, slept under a mosquito net, got hundreds of bites from anonymous bugs, and sweat a whole lot. But all of these things were a small sacrifice for everything I learned. Going to a third world country makes you thankful that you even have a shower at all and that you have a mosquito net so you don’t get malaria. The inspiration, amazing people I met, and awesome things happening simply can’t be replicated in the states.

My friends 

There was Sant-Sant, the cutest, sassiest 5 year old I’ve ever met. Since he was malnourished, the fact that he now got regular meals and had toys to play with meant that life was amazing for him. And Wadley, who educated me about Haitian government and his perception of the differences between Haiti and America. Next time I complain about going to class, I will instead try to think of all of the children who are so thrilled to get schooling in Haiti. Arnold, who was my dad’s friend and was saving up to build his dream house on top of a mountain overlooking the Caribbean. Megan, who started everything and has built a school for 500 kids, a café, medical clinic, and transformed a community all in 3 years. We got authentic lobster that was caught for us and went to a beautiful beach surrounded by mountains.

Sant-Sant

Me, Arnold, and my dad

When you go to a place like Haiti, you wonder why it is so poor, why it is so hot, why children are dying. How can a place so beautiful with mountains and beaches so close to America be so poor? You know it was the only successful slave revolt to form their own republic in the Western Hemisphere, that American companies raided their resources and destroyed the land, and that unlike sub-Saharan Africa- who’s GDP has doubled in the past 15 years, Haiti isn’t progressing rapidly. But on the flip side, you go to Haiti, hear stories and can’t deny that God is there. You hear story after story, like Megan Boudreaux moving to Haiti by herself and finding a pastor who said he’d been praying for years for someone like her. And you leave, still not knowing or understanding exactly why, but understanding that God is definitely at work and change is happening.