IVP - Strangely Dim - The News from Haiti

The News from Haiti

Here's a post from Haiti trip participant (and forthcoming Likewise Books author) Jamie Arpin-Ricci.

***

The roar of the nightime torrential rainfall swallows all other sound as we sit together under the tin roof of the wallless enclosure.  The brief flashes of lightning reveal the outlying one-room buildings, made of salvaged tin sheeting and invaluable tarps.  Further beyond that lay the leveled rubble of what used to be these families' homes, destroyed by the January earthquake.  I wait for the next flash of lighening, hoping to catch a glimpse of the dozen or so other faces of my hosts and their friends and family--faces of all ages.  I catch a glimpse of something moving just behind me, turning to see my gaze returned by a goat.  Disinterested, he returns his gaze to the dark landscape beyond.  This is surreal.

While the rain offers me a brief respite to the intense heat of the day, I still find myself sweating slightly.  However, our hosts declare it far too cold to remain outside any longer.  We make our way up the mud-slicked path, ducking into the tin structure where we will be staying.  John Engle, co-founder/director of Haiti Partners, is with me, acting as translator for the Haitian Creole (Kreyòl).  While my meager French helps me understand some of it, I'd be lost without John's help.  The family has given up their two beds for us, laying down tarps and sheets on the dirt floor for their own sleeping space.  Overwhelmed with feelings of unworthiness and inadequacy, all I can do is say a grateful mercy as we all roll over to sleep.

John and I are both sick in the night, waking to face the day with depleted energy.  While John rallies, my health continues to deteriorate, the unexpected result of a poor choice in anti-malaria medication.  Turns out that it is not advised for people with my kind of immune deficiency.  Too late to do anything, we gather up our things to face the new day.  Lindsay, one of the members of our team and a gifted children's entertainer, teaches the kids a wonderful folk tale from India, getting the kids to participate.  We are all on the edge of our seats, wondering what will happen in the end.  Following the performance, we sit in a circle with a group of local teachers, listening to their stories about rebuilding the devastated school system.  Not for the first time since arriving, I am humbled by the commitment, perseverance and hope of these teachers, most of whom lost their own homes in the quake. 

By the afternoon my health has gotten worse and we decide it would be better if I went back to the guest house a day early.  Sad to leave the team, it turns out to be the right decision, as I am quite sick by that evening.  John's wife, Merline, a Haitian native, pampers me, a significant comfort being sick so far from home.

***

It is now the next day, the air is cool and I feel somewhat recovered.  John and Merline's two adorable children are playing on the floor next to me as I type this.  The team should be joining us in a few hours and I am eager to see them.  Tonight we debrief and do some sightseeing before packing up. 

Tomorrow morning we return to Miami, leaving behind new, yet dear friends.  I will also be leaving my pride behind--at least a portion of it.  I am amazed at the stubborn resilience of the people, carrying on with so much working against them.  What other choice do they have?  And so, I am humbled.

We have so very much.  I can only believe, then, that there is so very much expected of us as well.