English Essay

A LITTLE TASTE OF HAITI

Can you envision a city scattered with garbage. Where homes are stacked like dominos in ravines? Are you able to visualize houses that are made from tarps and bed sheets? Where parents resort to feeding their children mud cookies as a source of survival?

Barking dogs, singing, gunshots, and the sound of voodoo drums are normal every-night sounds in Delmas, Port-au-Prince. One sound that should not be heard is a child crying out from hunger, sickness, and abuse. If you could pass by her you would want to do something, right?

I would like to share with you a much-loved ministry God has laid on my heart. Reaching out to Haiti’s children, sharing the love of Christ.

My first trip to Haiti was in February 1997 to visit my sponsor child. As I waited to meet Jenifer and her mother for the first time, I was told I looked like an expecting father as I paced the hotel lobby. When she gave me a hug, I thought of her delicate, tiny body in my embrace. She was so thankful for being sponsored. Her way of showing this, was threw many tiny kisses on my cheek reminding me of the wings of a fluttering butterfly.

In 2004, I had the opportunity to return and help with a feeding program located in Port-au-Prince. Driving from the airport to the compound, a wave of emotion and memories returned from the past visit seven years earlier. As my heart filled with joy, and with tears in my eyes, I clearly heard the Lord’s voice saying, “You’re home”. And rightfully, so as Haiti is defiantly where my heart is.

For the past thirteen years I have traveled back to the place I call home. Each time I seem to leave a little part of my heart behind. The only way I can explain how I feel when I return to Canada is referring to a toddler and her lollipop.

Visualize for a moment a two-year-old admiring a brightly coloured lollipop. If she could only taste her lollipop once a year, how do you think she would feel? Perhaps teased and a bit of unexplained sadness. Possibly, some anticipation as she waits till next year to once again savor a moment of its sweet taste.

Recently I was able to minister in Haiti for eleven months, spending part of that time before and after the January 12th Earthquake. I grew in many areas as I helped with the ministry. A few highlights for that year was; prison visitation, teaching Bible lessons to children, painting the new compound, public transportation to the primitive living conditions, and learning the language and culture while bonding with the youth.

On my first week I was asked to share a message at a youth prison on Delmas 38. I clearly remember this trip. As I climbed into the Pathfinder, there was enough room for five adults but somehow we managed to squeeze in eight. Without air-conditioning and unable to role down the widows because of the outside dust, we somehow arrived joyfully.

On my fourth visit, I was introduced to a fifteen-year-old boy who spoke very poor English. I soon became a mentor to Shneither and his friend Jeff. Each week he would write a letter and I would send

him Bible lessons for encouragement. The next week, we met to discuss any questions he had. It was inspiring to see how much passion he had to dig deeper into God’s word. Shneither and Jeff were released before Christmas along with eight other youth, and Bible studies continued until the prison was closed.

“Suddenly there was a great earthquake, so that the foundations of the prison were shaken; and immediately all the doors were opened.” Acts 16:26. This verse reminds me of how the Lord released many of the prisoners in a similar way to Paul and Silos.

During my year stay I was also involved in teaching two midweek programs for a group of twelve hundred school age children, and four hundred preschoolers. Recording my first few lessons to my last message I was able to see how I had grown. I used skits to encourage the smaller groups interaction, and created over fifty, four-foot drawings to visually stimulate both groups.

My ability to paint was not only used to enhance the children’s program. Asked to recruit help from the youth group, I was put to work painting the new church. I started to think it was easier to paint alone, but how could I turn away a willing heart to serve.

I began the long task at teaching them how to paint, and clean up. It soon became apparent that some youth had no intention on working. However, there were four boys who came every day, and each week I saw their continued willingness to help. They were always on time, and very pleasant to work with. However, their painting skill is a different story.

I showed them the importance to take time when painting, one hard lesson they quickly learned. To teach them this lesson, I had the boys correct their lines until they looked straight. Several months later I found it amusing to see how they adapted and began to use my painting techniques. It was like looking at my reflection in a mirror.

How can someone feel so much pride for her team? Returning for a visit five months later, my boys showed me around. They where enthusiastic to show the work they completed when I was away. I could see their satisfaction in the work they had accomplished.

After ten hours of painting in high humidity, cleanup was welcomed, as it some how always ended in a water fight. At first, my team seemed bewildered to see I was the one to initiate the cool down. As the weeks past, the cool down became a much-rewarded game at the end of a hard day of work.

Bonding with the youth, I quickly became immersed in the language and culture. I was blessed to find one of the youth willing to teach me his Kreyòl language, and become a translator for my messages.

I was first introduced to some basic fraises. As time went on I slowly began to comprehend how to use past, present, and future tenses. We then practiced verbs, and I began to add new words to my vocabulary. As I è became familiar with the language, I realized my spelling in Kreyòl was much better than my English. I needed to keep aware of when to use accents, as it would sometimes change the meaning of the word.

Language was not the only thing I need to adapt to. A hot bath or shower was soon forgotten and I quickly learned to adapt to washing in a bucket of cold water, when there was water.

I also had limited access to electricity. On average my fridge was powered for three hours a day. The fridge soon became an icebox hoping this would help with the loss of meat. What I did have I looked upon as a blessing and I quickly became thankful for the added commodities left behind in Canada.

One delight I took pleasure in, was observing the Haitian people as I walked the ravines; they seemed to have the balance and stealth of a mountain goat, yet when I took a few friends to go swimming they had no concept of bouncy. Instead, as I helped my friends to swim they felt like a sinking stone.

I also received pleasure from taking public transportation. Small, brightly painted trucks known as Tap-Taps seemed to be on their last wheel. As I bounced around from hitting man-sized holes, I felt like a packed sardine in a tin can. I enjoyed watching and listening to the people as we drove by the busy outdoor markets, paying close attention to many original sights, sounds, and very distinct smells.

Returning to Canada after ministering for eleven months in Haiti, I found it very difficult to adjust. Once again try to picture that toddler with her lollipop, enjoying it for a much longer time. How might she feel when her lollipop is being pulled from her mouth, unsure of the next time she will once again feel content to savor its sweet taste.

How can one person have so much joy and love in their heart for a people group? Once again I feel like that toddler. I have tasted the sweetness of ministry in a place where I belong, love, and call home. Haiti will always have a special place in my heart. God willing, I will continue to do what I can and one day return to share the love of Christ to the Haitian people.