Journal - Day 4

Day 4:  October 4, 2010

This morning came quickly, although we had a long night’s sleep.  We were up at 6:30-breakfast at 7…and tried to be off by 8.  When we realized our driver Thierry was not on time, we gathered in Randy’s room for a little preparation and a devotional to start the day.  We knew this would be needed because of where we were going.

Scott led the devotional.  He read from Psalms 9.  We discussed our purpose for being here…not to make judgements, not to move mountains. We are here to move people from a place of sadness and despair to hope and promise of God’s love and grace.  Everyone shared a little of what they were feeling.  We talked about how the suffering we are seeing is allowed by God so that we can see the sin in the world.  The earthquake brought recognition to Haiti so that more people will pray for this country, come to this place and bring God’s greatness to a place so desperate.

This was the most appropriate discussion, because our direction for today was City Soleil.  An alternate name for the city is “the slum”.  And that is for a very good reason.  Only having expectations is not enough to prepare you for the poverty of the city. 

Thierry arrived by 9am.  We loaded the truck and the car and headed out.  The drive into town was a little quicker than usual.  Because we were headed INTO town, the streets were paved and traffic was moving.  Driving in town is only explainable in one word:  CRAZY!!!  We darted around trucks, speeding up and slowing down, maneuvering our way thru a maze of drivers.  There were motorcycles zipping by, horns beeping every second, and three girls in Thierry’s car holding on for dear life.  Glad it wasn’t me behind the wheel.

As we drew closer to the school,  the air grew thick we the smell of septic drains.  The streets went from a market place to a place where thousands of people had homes.  And by homes, I do not mean houses.  I mean, and to put it candidly, shelters.  There were cardboard walls topped with tarps held on by rocks.  There were rusted dividers with tin roofs that had no doors or means of support.  There was a water source nearby, but it ran a dark grey throughout the center of the town.  There were people everywhere.  I saw elders, mothers, daddy’s, brothers and sisters, babies, dogs, goats, and pigs…all sharing the same living space.  The stench in the air took my breath away…and I quickly thought how I hadn’t brought my Vicks vapor rub to put beneath my nose.

We exited the vehicles, and gathered closely to assemble our things.  We walked in a line down a small rock covered path surrounded by disarray.  We got a lot of looks, most of which were smiles.  I couldn’t believe I was so warmly greeted from a people so stunted by progress.  Our crew—10 people carrying backpacks, bottled water, coolers of ice, a suitcase of surprises…we were clean, we weren’t hungry, and we were white.  We were welcomed.

The school, if you can call it that, was located about 100 yards from the main road.  It was a still-standing cement building that had a metal gate at the entrance.  There was no floor.  There was no roof.  There were no bathrooms, no electricity, and no running water.  There was a lot of nothing, but there was also a lot of happiness inside.  When we entered the school, we heard the children.  There were two classrooms, both located to the right of the building.  The first room was for the older kids…ages 5-13/14.  The second room was for the smaller children…ages 1-4.  The office, which was the only place the kids could not enter was to the left. 

Upon our arrival, we dropped our belongings in the office, and headed towards the classroom.  Initially, we entered the classroom for the big kids.  When we walked in…there they were.  100 adorable faces, sitting in desk chairs repeating words given by there teacher.  They all looked at us with anxious eyes, chomping at the bit to come and hug our necks.  It was amazing.  We entered the classroom, and within seconds, these kids, these perfect, sweet,  precious little kids, were holding our hands, asking our names, and laughing with excitement. 

The teacher called order to the classroom, and the kids in perfect synch and harmony loudly sang Jesus Loves Me.  It was a joyous moment.  And guess what…Jesus was there.  In the slum, in the sludge, in the school with no ceiling or floors…Jesus was there.  He was with us.  He was our arms, our tongues, our smiles and our heart.  He was there.  

After the music, the big kids got back to learning their French, and we went to the second classroom to visit the babies.  There were probably 30 tots in this room.  There was no teacher, but they seemed pretty controlled.  Before we could even get in the room, they were on top of us.  They would look up at us with reaching arms begging to be held.  They would smile at us and take a hard look at our earrings and watches.  And although they were so eager to be loved, I was absolutely astonished at how well they took care of each other.  They were so little, and so self efficient. 

Within minutes, the big kids had been released from class, and we all gathered in the courtyard.   Now typically, when one hears the word courtyard, we think of a grassy knoll with beautiful pink flowers and kids running around playing ball.  But in Haiti, the word courtyard has a different meaning.  The courtyard at this school was so opposite of the typical it is hard to explain.  Again…there are no floors in this school.  So the courtyard was a cement slab in the middle of the school, with sky on top, and rocks on bottom.  The floor was wet with urine and spilled water, and the air was heavy with stench.  The kids did not know the difference.  Some of the children had no shoes, and some of them had no pants.  But all of them had a heart for God and the rare opportunity to be in school.  And you know what we did?  We played.  We played the hand-slapping game (like 1000 times), we played ring around the rosies, we held, we squeezed, we kissed, we loved these children.  Some of them kept asking for water, or for our watches, but most just wanted our affection. 

It was quite apparent how “lucky” these kids were.  When we looked at the gate that opened into the city, it was lined with feet.   There were so many children outside of the gate that wanted to be in.  It was quite eye opening.  As it turns out, school is truly a privilege here….it is not free.  As a result, 80% of the Haitian people are illiterate.  That is pretty hard to comprehend.

Towards the end of our visit, we gathered the candy lolly’s we had brought to hand out.  The teacher had the kids line up in four rows, and we walked down the line handing them each a lollipop.  I was glad to give a treat, but my heart wanted to give them so much more.  If I could, I would give them the clothes on my back or the shoes from my feet.  Even a bag of Hanes would make a difference in this place. 

The kids grabbed a cup of juice, said “au revoir”, and off the went. 

The team was hot, tired, smelly, and standing in feces.  We were surprised at the quiet calm that took over the school when the kids left.  We picked up lolly wrappers and stems and any remaining trash from the cement floor and took a moment to breathe.  The quiet did not last long.  Within minutes-people from the city began entering the school.  There was a water barrel in the back of the school that was apparently for local families to use.  They were coming and going with buckets of water balanced atop of their heads. 

Just before our departure, a few of us gathered on the roof of the school.  This put things into a more realistic perspective.  For as far as you could see, there were these tin roofs.  There were naked babies everywhere.  There was black smoke from burning trash filling the sky with a trail of soot.  The waterway, which is their source of food (fish) was surrounded by trash.  So much trash, so much pollution, so much poverty…I just can’t explain it. 

We walked back down the rock-covered path to the car.  The girls left, the boys stayed to work on the foundation of Pastor Diesel’s new school.  I will never be the same.

- Fran