Poverty

Our first day in Haiti was extremely busy.  We arrived in Port au Prince at about 12:00pm and spent about an hour getting through Customs.  Jake had a driver waiting to escort us to Double Harvest.  Haitians were insistent about helping us with our baggage, literally chasing us out to our car.  We waved them off and repeatedly yelled, “Non!  Kompete!” in futile attempts to get them to stop.  This is their vocation.

Our car was driven by a man named Isaac.  He took us on a tour of the city.  Isaac has five daughters ages 7 to 15 that he has been raising as a single father since the earthquake.

I was changed by what I saw of the city.  It is another world in another time period.  Buildings in ruins, continuing to crumble.  Women and children walking with loaded baskets on their heads.  Boney dogs and goats (and pigs) roaming the streets, and cats chained on the sidewalks.  Bumpy and dusty streets full of cars zig- zagging in all directions, and the only law seems to be “every man for himself.”

Double Harvest seemed to be in a world of its own.  Only a few miles from the city, it is an eternity away down dirt roads that are barely passable.  Surrounded by a stunning mountain range, Double Harvest feels like home.  Life here is simple, but fulfilling.  There is warmth here that feels much more satisfying than the 80 degree temperatures - the compassionate people, the beautiful farmlands and the sense that God’s Kingdom is coming to earth right here in Croix de Bouquet.  Lives are being changed at Double Harvest, including my own.

Soon after we dropped our baggage in the upstairs of the medical clinic where we’re staying, we jumped on a Gator and began navigating some of the surrounding villages.  Children jumped on the vehicle as we zoomed past, plopping down next to us as if they had hailed a cab.  One boy, Jonathan, recognized Jake and practically climbed on his lap.  I’ll never forget his smile as he stroked Jake’s hair and repeated the word “friend.”  He worked to refine his English as he yelled at Jake to go “faahster!”

 A friendly fellow named Luxon escorted us to Centre Loving Hands, the orphanage that is being supported by Ashley’s Orphans.  It’s difficult to communicate how that place gripped my heart.  God’s treasures, with big brown eyes and soft, velvety skin, had smiles that I could still see when I turned the lights out last night.  They treated me like a long-lost friend.  In less than an hour, Jonathan and I were “z’amis.”  I spent most of my time “talking” to the children, realizing that with their limited knowledge of English and my limited knowledge of French, we could get by.  A smile and a hug go a long way.

A savvy young orphan named Stanley showed me around the orphanage.  Although I had seen photos of their living quarters, I was not prepared for the reality of the size of their bedrooms.  The “school” was really a 3-sided structure with a few desks and a chalkboard.  “School” for them is not really a place, it’s in their hearts.  An average of two out of three children that I met from the villages do not attend school and cannot write their names. 

In the United States, we cannot fathom the lifestyle of these people.  As we drove back through the villages, I was captivated by dusty block huts, naked toddlers and older children with no shirts or underwear, bumpy and dusty dirt roads, starving farm animals, and joy.  Most people were busy outside of their homes and genuinely smiled and waved as we passed.  We saw a church that was constructed out of old outhouse doors.  Instead of a view of stained glass windows, these people worship joyfully with a view of a 50 portable johns nailed together.  I began to grasp how little these people depend on material things.  They don’t have material things or opportunities, so they have to depend on the Lord.  Their lifestyle is such that they’ve never been able to put their faith in themselves the way we so often do, so they have to trust the Lord.   I suddenly realized who was really living in poverty.  Our spiritual poverty may be more significant than their material poverty.

Pray for Haiti.  Pray for the suffering that continues here after the tragic earthquake.  Pray for relief from poverty for Haitians and Americans.  And pray for Kingdom come, that we’ll see a broken world restored - my brokenness, your brokenness, and the brokenness of our brothers and sisters in Haiti and around the world.

Dawn