Our Farewell Dinner
The night before we departed on this greatly anticipated trip, I invited the group traveling to Haiti to my home for dinner. Included were Don Moen, the well-known Christian music composer and performer whose inspirational songs have graced our prayer-room at Food For The Poor (FFP) for many years, his son Michael , whom I would meet for the first time that night, and Jesse Sproul, Don’s general manager. Alice Marino, FFP’s director of marketing, Sydney Henry, our radio manager, and Leann Chong, our missions’ director. Toby Brooks, a friend and past student of mine who was invited on the trip as photographer, brought his lovely girlfriend Liann. Ian Wood, our new videographer, was at work late and was not able to make it.
Believing that a good meal can elevate the spirit and encourage good fellowship, I cooked all day to prepare a delicious meal fit for a king, followed by five desserts. I was pleased that many enjoyed second helpings (and some thirds) and that the desserts were welcomed with unabashed enthusiasm. The mood was celebratory and, although the ages in the group varied widely from 24 to 60, everyone got along very well, which is a good thing as we were about to embark on an experience that would truly bond our hearts and souls in a very special way.
Since our flight was scheduled to leave for Haiti at 7:00 AM, we needed to wake up early – 4:30 AM at the latest – in order to arrive in Miami by 5:30 AM. Everyone made it to the airport in good time and our flight to Port Au Prince (PaP) arrived just a little after 8:00 AM (they are on CST). We were immediately taken to Food For The Poor’s offices. The staff had graciously prepared a nice breakfast for us, followed by a tour of the warehouse, which is undergoing major reconstruction and expansion after being severely damaged in the January 12th earthquake. As under normal circumstances prior to the disaster, there was an amazing amount of food ready for distribution there, but we knew that it would not last long. Trucks were being loaded with these nourishing and life-saving supplies as we passed by the dock. Our feeding center cooks 24 hundred-pound bags of rice and 8 hundred-pound bags of beans to fix the 15,000 meals prepared daily, 6 days a week. It is always an impressive sight – the mountains of rice and beans, and pallets of peanut butter!
From the distribution center, we walked to our feeding center. Again, the sheer amount of food was overwhelmingly impressive. The huge, wide pots filled with rice, and the tall, giant pots that contain the bean based stew filled the room. It requires two strong men to lift any one of them from stove to counter. The line at the counter seems endless, as the strong women serve scoop after large scoop of rice and bean stew to the patient poor, who collect their food in large plastic buckets that we distribute to them so they can efficiently collect what is likely to be the only meal of the day for their entire family.
Our workers at the feeding center are some of my most cherished employees at FFP (Haiti). Their work is grueling, under conditions of extreme heat. The continuous serving of the women on the food line is extraordinary, as most of us who try it are exhausted after only a few minutes. Additionally, despite the the devastation of the earthquake, including the tragedy of a young employee who suffered the loss of his four-year-old son, they rallied to their work in the midst of their grieving and served the first hot meals in PaP less than a week after the “sinister.”
I introduced Don to them and explained that he was a famous Christian singer who would be speaking about his experience in Haiti at his concerts in order to move hearts to support the plight of the Haitian poor, but he had wanted to visit the country first so that he could speak from the heart and from his own experiences. Then one of the women asked me if he would sing a song for them. I laughed and translated for them, taking the request very lightly. Don didn’t, and immediately broke into one of his songs, “God Will Make A Way.” The workers eyes lit up while hearing Don’s beautiful voice and the rhythm of the song. As he finished singing, the group rewarded Don with a passionate applause. It was a beautiful and touching moment and I’m glad I was there to witness it.
As Don was helping serve the food, I walked around and greeted all the employees to whom I hadn’t spoken as yet. Most of them had lost their homes on January 12th and were concerned about their future. I explained that FFP (Haiti) was investigating the situation of all our 400+ employees there so that we could best determined the extent of the help needed on an individual basis and how best to offer assistance. I asked them for patience, as we would also need to get permission from the government to build in PaP proper, something that they had not yet granted to anyone. They nodded in understanding of this difficult and bewildering situation.
Out Of The Capital
A visit to Grand Goave was next on our itinerary. We drove there on roads that were often very challenging, although nowhere near the worst that I had experienced in Haiti. Our first stop in Grand Goave was at the FFP fishing village project where a majority of the 10 homes built had not fared as well as most we’ve constructed. In PaP, of our many homes built there, we lost only one house, which was sitting in the middle of a village of 70 homes – the other 69 homes did not have even a scratch. Here in Grand Goave, however, the homes had been thrice battered by the elements. Unfortunately, the earthquake created a tsunami reportedly of up to two meters in height in that area. These homes, built in a fishing village by the sea, were weakened by the tsunami and then hit hard by the earthquake. More than 60 aftershocks also took a toll on this area. Most of the homes ended up with cracks so large that it would likely be more expensive to attempt repairs than to actually rebuild from scratch.
The fishermen who lived there had great attitudes. They were very welcoming and we ate lunch with them, including some freshly caught tuna cooked in lime and roasted conch. We spoke to one of the boat captains who has become a local hero – he caught an 800-pound marlin, with the help of some other fishermen, with only a hand line! He proudly showed everyone the photographs of him with this mammoth fish.
Just a few miles away, still in Grand Goave, we visited another group of FFP houses that have, fortunately, survived beautifully. We spoke to the residents who expressed gratitude. I noticed that some homes had tents outside and when I asked about it they explained that the day before they had felt another tremor and they were very afraid to sleep indoors. Fear has become a constant factor in the daily life of most Haitians who were severely affected by the earthquake.
On the way back to PaP we saw the many tent cities at Leogane. One of the more serious problems in the tent cities there was lack of sanitation. I was happy to learn that FFP has built sanitation blocks to help ease this pressing problem. We stopped at one of the tent cities to take a closer look at these structures. We had also built a well there that supplied the entire tent city community with clean, potable water.
It was great talking with the residents there, but we had an even better time playing with the children. Michael, Jesse, Don and I were throwing them up in the air and giving them “air rides” and they couldn’t get enough of this attention. They kept coming back asking for more and we obliged until our backs were beginning to feel like they would never recover.
Gressier is a city that has some of the worst poverty that I have ever seen in Haiti. We visited an orphanage for older boys that we support there and where Alice Marino sponsors two of the young men through our Angels of Hope program. Alice was thrilled to see them and brought some gifts of clothing for them and enough to share with others. They were very sweet boys, soft spoken and gentle. I spoke to the other boys who live there and it was amazing that teenagers everywhere have so much more in common than they have differences, despite the difference in language, culture, etc. I really enjoyed talking to them – reminded me of my many years as a teacher.
We passed Carrefour againon the way back to PaP. We were all very concerned with a situation that had worried us on the way out of the capital when we first saw it. There is a narrow strip of land – a median – between the very busy lanes of the main road which links the city to the capital and to other cities to the south. Hundreds of homeless citizens have taken up residence on this strip of land, precariously exposing their tents and their children to the dangers of heavy traffic. The tents take up every inch of the median, which makes it impossible to step out of a tent and not step right unto the heavily trafficked main road. It is a perfect recipe for tragedy – particularly for the children. I was happy to note that The New York Times featured a photograph of this median on their front page, as this attention may be what is needed to get some speedy resolution for this potentially dangerous situation.
The Morning After
Our second morning getting up in the wee hours so as to be on the road by 6:00… We headed on our bus to the small airport where we would take our small propeller plane north to Cap Haitien (Cap) – once the capital and now the second largest city in Haiti. After our short flight, we dropped our luggage off at Picolet Hotel, where we met Fr. Duken, the missionary priest who oversees all our projects in Cap. We had breakfast and proceeded to begin our emotional roller coaster ride for that day.
Shada – The Horror
I have heard that in Polish the word “Shada” connotes deep pain or deep sorrow. I doubt very much if there is any relationship between this Polish word and the naming of this area, but it certainly describes the place most efficiently. We stopped by an open lot next to a school from which we got the panoramic view of Shada. The scene was depressing – decrepit shanties, polluted river, abundant garbage, and pigs everywhere (including one that was being slaughtered a few feet from us). The smell of blood and putrefaction, mixed with that of feces (both from animals and humans) was difficult to stomach. Men and women, having long ago lost any sense of privacy, would come to the common area of garbage and perform their natural bodily functions in front of each other and the world at large. My heart broke for them.
In contrast, word had leaked out that we had soccer balls to distribute to the different areas we visited on that day and an army of children soon appeared chanting the Creole/French words “boul” and “balon” without pause, hoping that they would badger us into submission and we would give them one of the balls. The energy and din of the children, increased by the fact that we were taking photographs of them which they could view immediately afterwards, was in direct juxtaposition to the depressive quality of Shada.
In an effort to get away from the confusion, I stood by myself at the corner of the open lot closest to the area in question trying to understand how we, as human beings, could allow this slap in the face of humanity to exist. The injustice and immorality of it filled me with sadness. I thought of how horrible it must be for a mother to give birth in a place like that and yet we saw many pregnant women while there. In Spanish, we have a beautiful way of expressing the idea of “giving birth,” we say “dar a luz,” which in English would be “to give to the light.” I thought of the pregnant mothers there and was tortured by the fact that after nine months of protective custody of their infants in their wombs, so close to their hearts, nature would force them to give their infants to the darkness, the stench and the horror that is Shada.
I felt someone near. I turned around and saw this young man approaching me. He looked at me crying and I thought I saw his face soften. I needed a hug. Instead, he chanted “boul, boul, boul!” Back to reality…
We drove around to the other side of the river in order to visit the homes of some of the residents there. They had a fairly new cement park there, with a small gazebo. It seemed almost out of place amidst that poverty. Four young men were flying home made kites there, made from empty plastic bags. I thought that the kites were like symbols of their indomitable spirits that, despite their circumstances, wished to soar free, out of the bondage of poverty. I looked at the string and noticed that it was made up from small pieces carefully tied together, like their hope.
We met Durona – a mother of five young children who looked much younger than their age because of malnutrition. Her wretched, tiny shack had no furniture or belongings other than the old wire frame of a dilapidated mattress. She was one of the lucky ones. She was one of the three families that we would be moving out of Shada into a brand new FFP house at Chestonoye. We asked Don to present her with the keys to her new home and he did. She was bursting with happiness. She was more than ready to move and she would take possession of her new two-room home that very afternoon. When she was speaking to Don she said, “God sent you here.” Later, she would tell me that she would pray for us “morning, noon and night.”
As we walked to the home of the third person to be moved out of Shada, we saw a little girl who looked no older than three (she was six) washing clothes by hand in a large metal tub. We were all amazed at how professionally she did this and how energetically she tackled the task at hand. We finally arrived at the home of Louisman. She was a sad looking woman with four young children, standing in her little hut that was completely flooded in water. We soon discovered that the cause of her sorrow was that her husband had recently lost his life at sea. Her sadness was almost palpable. To add to her woes, she could not afford to pay rent since her husband died and she was being evicted from her flooded home – inconceivable! Michael presented her with the keys to her new home, but her sorrow was still stronger than her joy. She broke our hearts.
Prolonge – The Swamp
I remember the first time I went to Prolonge – there were shacks everywhere. We have built homes for many of the former residents of this swamp and the reduction of population here because of our efforts is very noticeable. I would love to see this swamp/garbage dump totally abandoned one day soon.
We visited Memenn, one of the residents there. Her shack was tiny and she was a single mother of five. From the outside, the tiny hut looked horrible, yet on entering, you could see that she had done everything possible to create a warm home environment within the wretchedness of her circumstances. Everything was well organized inside, with shelves, curtains, beds and a floral ornament that hung from the roof. She had covered the roof with a colorful cloth and had used pieces of lace and other materials to create partitions and private spaces within the tiny home.
Memenn is on our short list for receiving a new FFP home. Amazingly, she has to pay rent for her little home (about US$8.50 p/month) and she is in danger of being evicted, as she has no steady source of income.
Nativity Village
We visited Nativity Village, named after the parish by the same name in Burke, Virginia, that has generously funded so much in Haiti. This is a large settlement of former swamp residents, who now not only enjoy the benefit of new homes, but also of solar lights, potable water, a school, a clinic and a job training center. What a beautiful and complete transformation! We were greeted warmly by many of our old friends there.
Lunch in St. Louis
Our next visit was to the St. Louis Orphanage for girls, where some kind ladies had prepared lunch for us. On entering we were greeted by a number of girls whose hair was neatly braided and adorned with a great variety of colored beads. They were such pretty girls. They sang us a multi-lingual welcome song – a true choir of angels.
After a delicious lunch, we got a guided tour of the facilities and the gardens. Someone remarked at lunch that the girls behaved like young ladies at a finishing school – they were so mannerly and polite. Before we left, Don taught them how to sing one of his songs and, once again, they showed off their vocal talent.
Triumphant Entry into Chestonoye
The inauguration of 100 FFP houses at Chestonoye was our next stop.
As our bus entered the new village and we got off, a large number of men, women and children ran towards us applauding and chanting rhythmically, “Viv Food For The Poor” and “Mesi Food For The Poor.” The energy was so intense that you could cut it with a knife. They came to us with offerings of freshly picked bushes and flowers, their smiles were broad, warm and welcoming, the children held our hands, our arms, our clothing. I kidded with them and told them in Creole that if I had come in on a donkey, I would have believed that I was Jesus triumphantly entering Jerusalem. They laughed.
Soon afterward, we had the great pleasure of presenting Durona and Louisman and their respective kids with their new homes. Jesse and Toby did the honors of cutting the ribbons and Don said a beautiful prayer for each family, invoking God’s blessing on their new homes and their families. The kids looked amazed at the amount of space that was now theirs and the mothers were happy with the supply of food that was given to them to start their new lives with some proper nourishment.
The sadness in Louisman’s eyes, even when she smiled, still broke our hearts.
Reflection
That night, at our hotel, we shared our impressions of the day and our thoughts. It was a beautiful, emotionally charged time where we got to express things deep inside us and allowed us to catch a glimpse of each other’s souls. We were physically and emotionally exhausted, but so very inspired. Those very things that anger us and upset us when we first see them, are often the very things that later inspire us to action.
Return to PaP
My alarm rang at 4:45 and I wasn’t ready to get up. I had been up talking with Sydney till late the night before and now I had to pay the piper! I forced myself to get up, and by 6:00 we were on our way to the airport. When we landed in PaP, Msgr. Andre Pierre was waiting there to greet us. He was the priest that had been living in small tent city after the quake and who went around celebrating mass and comforting his people. He was no longer living at the tent city, but was still bringing hope and peace to his people. He is always positive and smiling. He spent the entire morning with us until we were dropped off at the airport. I really admire this man of God.
We arrived at one of my favorite stops in PaP, our home for children of different capabilities called Little Children of Jesus. It reminds me that intellect is not a prerequisite for love.
The staff, led by M. Gladys Nunez, has a heavenly patience and treats those children with tenderness and love. They are very special people with a true gift of caring and we are all grateful for the way in which they accomplish their work.
There are many children here who have touched my life and given me great joy: the energetic Stevenson, a happy little boy who does not allow the absence of fingers to negatively affect his life; there is Linda – always smiling, always affectionate; and Joshua, my little friend who suffers from hydrocephalus and is almost always non-responsive, but how sweet it is when, on those rare occasions, he regales us with peels of laughter. Then there is Flouriman…
Flouriman is intellectually intact, but completely blind. His musical talent is well developed and he has often entertained us on the keyboard. He also composes his own music, writes his own lyrics and sings!
After he and some other young men from our boys’ orphanage entertained us with some songs, Don was asked to return the favor in kind. The staff and residents were thrilled as Don took his place behind the keyboard and started singing his own “God Will Make A Way.” They wanted to record him and the best they could do was to hold a phone with that capability next to the speaker. But the most beautiful time of the morning was yet to come.
Don decided that he was going to teach Flouriman how to play his song. It was such a tender moment, seeing Don teach him by touch and by ear. In about 15 minutes, Don was singing the song, properly accompanied by his quick study pupil with a God-given natural talent – Flouriman!
Na we on lot le, si Bondye vle, Ayiti cheri’m . . . .
(We’ll see each other again, God willing, my beloved Haiti.)
Thank you to Don Moen for supplying the photos posted in this blog.