Facts:
I took a trip with 11 of my peers to a town called Passe Catabois, Haiti. It was scheduled to be 10 days, leaving January 8, 2010 and returning to Seattle on January 18, 2010. That did not happen as planned. On January 12th, an earthquake hit Haiti near the capital city of Port-au-Prince at a magnitude of 7.0. It was catastrophic. Passe Catabois is approximately 100 miles north of the epicenter, so the quake was not as strong and did not cause as much damage there, but it was felt none-the-less. The week to follow was filled with over 50 aftershocks of magnitude 4.5 or higher.
Before the earthquake, Haiti was a nation of poverty, being the poorest nation in the Western Hemisphere, with most Haitians living on less than $2 a day. Haiti has also been plagued by corruption throughout its history. Post-earthquake, nearly a third of the Haitian population has lost everything. Buildings are destroyed, lives lost, families torn apart, government devastated. 200,000 are estimated dead, another 200,000 injured, 1 million children without one or more parents, over 1 million homeless, and hundreds of thousands fleeing the city for the countryside, 90% of schools destroyed.
My Experience:
We left, as planned, for Haiti on January 8th. We spent the day traveling, and spent the night in Miami before catching a morning flight to Port-au-Prince. Flying low coming in for a landing, we could see the city from our window: large beautiful buildings intertwined with slums. And when we stepped off the plane a sweet smell filled my nose. It's the kind of smell you can only have in a place like this, that hasn't yet been destroyed by industry and corporate greed, a place that survives by the sweat of their brow and the hope in their hearts.
From there we took a smaller plane to Port-de-Paix and a pick-up truck to Passe Catabois where we got settled in the guest house at Bruce and Deb's. Sunday was filled with rain, church, and a feast of Haitian proportions courtesy of a Pastor's family. Monday and Tuesday brought more rain, which forced us to forgo our plans of working in Foison, a small town about 30 minutes away. A few of us got to accompany Deb on an outing to visit some of her neighbors who had been through some major life events recently: what I like to call "New Testament Ministry" in action. We visited a woman who was sick, and we read Scripture together, and we prayed. We had other tasks of organizing and cleaning the shop and guest house, and we got a lot done, but after two days of not getting to do what we had come there to do, we were a bit discouraged.
Then, at 4:53pm local time, on Tuesday January 12, we felt the earth shake. It shook us, and the walls, and lasted about 35 seconds. The magnitude at which we felt the quake 100 miles from the epicenter was about 5.5, and we were fortunate to escape with no damage or injuries. There was some damage in Port-de-Paix, the city nearest us, but the quake was most devastating to Port-au-Prince.
In the days and nights following the quake, our hearts ached with every aftershock that we felt and knew was stronger in Port-au-Prince. We were without internet and mainstream media outlets, but were kept fairly updated on news from Bruce and Deb, who know lots of people in Port-au-Prince, and were eager to be as much help to people as they could. We heard stories of utter devastation as well as stories of hope. We sang together, as we heard stories of Haitians singing together well through the night.
When the earthquake hit, all commercial travel came to a halt. From that moment on Tuesday, our time in Haiti was up in the air. We had no idea when we would be able to get home. American Airlines had us tentatively on a flight on January 23, but they kept pushing back the date they were going to fly again. For the most part, we couldn't communicate with our families and friends. We had very limited access to email to let people know we were safe and not to worry, but that was the extent of it. Bruce worked tirelessly to find us a way out of the country that would keep us safe the whole way through.
We spent Wednesday-Friday in Foison at a church/school campus, doing the work we had come to do. We spent time digging a trench to run wiring to get electricity to a computer center, and surveying land to mark out a solid foundation for a new school building. We also spent time playing with children and working alongside the people of the community of Foison. We got to see the spark ignite in their hearts for the hope of something big to happen in their lives.
Saturday we were given a reprieve in the form of a visit to the beach. After almost a week of devastation and uncertainty, we got a break and got to swim in the beautiful Caribbean Sea. It was just the refreshment to our spirits that we all needed that day. And to top it off, we returned for dinner to find a finely prepared turkey dinner complete with stuffing, green beans, potatoes and pumpkin pie for dessert. It was the perfect touch of home that we had all been longing to feel.
Sunday was an experience in and of itself. We were invited to attend church in Passe Catabois and to sing a couple songs for the congregation. Experiencing church in another country is always a profound experience for me, but to be amongst a group of people who are grieving and suffering in a time of pain in their country adds an entirely new dynamic. These people mourned, they cried out in desperation, and then they praised God for what they have. Most of them had lost loved ones, had seen lives torn apart, and yet they were still thankful for the provisions that they had, no matter how small. They talked about how faithful God has been to them, through corruption, through natural disasters, through trial after trial. In Haiti, they sing out of hymn books, some in Creole, some in French, and we had the books right in front of us, which allowed us to participate in their praise, which filled my heart with so much emotion I can't convey it in words.
By Monday, January 18th, our plans for leaving the country were as finalized as they were going to get. We spent Monday preparing rations for our journey, packing up supplies that Bruce would be sending to Port-au-Prince, consolidating our luggage into just 5 bags for our team of 12, and cleaning up the guest house. The specifics of our plan were to remain secret from all except those directly involved to ensure the safest transit possible. So after one last dinner, lots of prayer, and hugs all around, we turned in for the night.
At 5:45am on Tuesday, we had a pickup truck packed up with 17 people and 7 suitcases and we hit the road. The first leg of our journey was a 70 mile truck ride from Passe Catabois to a port city called Cap-Haitien. The drive was along the northern coast up through mountains and towns along the way. The condition of the roads was terrible, with one flat tire and periodic stops for us to get out and walk because the truck would not make it with us all in it. All in all, it took us 9.5 hours to get to Cap-Haitien. It was a sight for sore eyes and rest for weary bodies when we finally pulled into the Hope Center, a place run by a missionary couple that had volunteered to house us for the night. They welcomed us with dinner, warm(er) showers, and soft beds. They prayed with us for the rest of our trip, fed us breakfast the next morning, and sent us on our way.
Wednesday we set off for the Cap-Haitien International Airport to *hopefully* get on a flight. Bruce and Deb had been working diligently to try to charger a flight with Missionary Flights. We got to the airport and basically had to wait around to see if Missionary Flights would fly that day. We had a close call in which what we thought was our plane landed, and then took off without us. There was the slightest doubt in the back of our minds that we would even get on a flight, and dread of the possibility that we might have to wait again the next day. But alas! Our plane finally arrived. Around 2pm we were loaded up into a DC-3, a piece of aviation history, built in 1944. We breathed a sigh of relief. We were one step closer to home.
Fuel in Haiti had become scarce, because all vessels were still struggling to port with supplies for aid, let alone the other necessities, so we set off for Turks & Caicos Islands near the Bahamas to refuel. We landed there and were welcomed with a feast. People from the island had gotten together to donate pizza, sandwiches, cookies, cupcakes, and beverages for anyone stopping there on their way to or from Haiti, as their way of helping with the relief efforts. After lunch, we loaded back up and watched the sun set from the air over the world below us.
We landed on American soil around 8:45pm in Fort Pierce, FL and were greeted by a contingency from Deb's home church in Boca Raton. They bought us all dinner at Wendy's, and then drove us an hour and a half to Boca Raton and housed us all for the night in various homes. They got us breakfast in the morning, and bought us commuter train tickets to Miami, where we hoped to get on flights back to Seattle. Once we reached the airport, we got some of our first glimpses of the devastation from news channels that were airing footage. We managed to get on flights to Chicago, and then through to Seattle.
Our arrival in Seattle was full of relief. We had 3 solid days of travel, everyone was exhausted, and we were all glad to be home. We walked out of the terminal to find a gathering of parents, friends and loved ones waiting to greet us. There were even welcome home signs. The entire trip home took 63 hours and 23 minutes, door to door. And we felt almost every minute of it.
My Reflections:
I went into this trip grieving the loss of a good friend. I tried to set that aside to be fully present in Haiti, but after a few days, it became apparent that it wasn't beneficial for me to do that. I spent most of the first half of the trip in a complete daze, and finally, after the earthquake, I just broke down. I cried, and I journaled and I let as much out as I could.
I started the trip feeling pretty angry with God, not wanting to engage. I think the biggest thing that I learned through this experience is that God is faithful. He is there and he will be glorified in everything, even in experiences of great pain and suffering.
I was also amazed by the people who came around us to support us and get us home safely. Not only did we have people in Haiti that helped us along our journey, we had complete strangers in Turks & Caicos feed us and encourage us, and strangers in Florida feed us and house us. And then I think of all the people across the country that know us and were praying for us, people who were worried, people who called each other to share updates, and people who posted words of support and encouragement on our Facebook pages and emails. It overwhelms me still to think of how much love, support, encouragement and prayer carried us through the mountains of Haiti.
It was a complete blessing to spend time with Bruce and Deb, to see how they live and how they minister to the people around them. It was encouraging to hear advice from them, to see how they seek God in every moment, and to feel like we had become a family. I would and did trust them with my life.
I came out of this trip with a clearer vision for the person that I want to be, and for the calling that I have on my life. I've been so preoccupied with how I can "prepare" to be a missionary in some far off country. The best thing that Bruce said to me was that you can't prepare for the mission field. Nothing can get you ready for the experiences you'll have there. The only thing you can do is seek God. The deeper you know Him and his word, the more prepared you are. Hearing that was freeing.
In coming home, I've also felt guilty. At no moment in this trip did I ever feel unsafe (except of course during the earthquake itself). And to have people greet me and tell me how worried they were, or how much they prayed, was intense for me, because I didn't feel like I deserved it. There are millions of people in Haiti that are so much worse off than we were that could have used the prayer. But then I remind myself of all that could have gone wrong. The earthquake could have easily been closer to us. If we had tried to fly out of Port-au-Prince we could have been attacked or raided for our provisions. We would have seen all the devastation firsthand. If we had taken another road to Cap-Haitien we could have been attacked or raided. We could have been stuck without travel plans for weeks. All those people that were praying for us got us out safely, I firmly believe that.
As I reflect on the entirety of the trip, this metaphor strikes me. Haiti has been so overcome by corruption, devastation from natural disasters, famine, slavery, etc. for so many years. I'm not saying the earthquake was a good thing, by any means. But the fact is that it happened. And Haiti has a huge opportunity to rebuild the country on better foundations. Buildings in Port-au-Prince were not built to sustain the damage from events like this. Haitians have the opportunity now to build their country on God, to build firm foundations that will withstand trials. It is amazing that we were given the opportunity to be there, to see Haiti. It is even more amazing that we went there to build a foundation that would be sound and that the people could build on and have it be good. I see a turning on Haiti's horizon. And I pray for a revival.
In one word, Haiti was an adventure. Clearly I can't take back the earthquake, but I wouldn't change anything from the experience I had of being in the country. I have fallen in love with the people there, with the hope they have in their hearts, and with the possibility they see in their future, despite all of the obstacles they have in their way. And now, as I am home, my struggle is to find a "new normal" in which I can be proud to live, and which honors God and all of his people.
