by Jess
We woke up today on the 5th of March, excited
for what the day had in store. Today would be the second day that we would be
returning to Verrettes, a very poor, rural city at the descent of the many mountains that border the horizon.
As you have probably read yesterday, we returned to the carpenter’s house we
were working at, only to have another change in plans (typical Haiti, I guess
lol), so we didn’t get as much done as we planned. However, progress is being
done and that is what matters. I think the Haitians definitely realize that,
too. Especially after the earthquake on January 12, 2010 that devastated the
lives of millions, and took the lives of approx. 100,000 people.
Though
we weren’t doing physical work, I can say that the love we were sharing with
these Haitian children at the village of Verrettes was absolutely life changing
to me, so I guess emotional work was being done. During group tonight, everyone
had to share something that meant something to them. I’ll use some their
responses to highlight our day J
Stacey shared with us today the pride Haitians feel in
their work. They are by far the hardest working people. Here’s Jacob’s story (A
close Haitian friend). When Jacob was nine or ten years old, his mother passed
away, leaving him in the custody of his father. Growing up, Jacob’s mother and
father had opposing religious views; his mother was Catholic where his father
practiced Voodoo. Jacob didn’t see eye
to eye with his father in regards to being a Voodooist, so he was kicked out
and left, basically, as an orphan at only nine or ten (not sure) years old.
Jacob was blessed, and had a beautiful personality. He was able build a life
better than most Haitian adults. He not only had a goat, a very prestigious
possession in Haitian culture, but he was able to buy a piece of land in Verrettes
for about 500 dollars. With that, he continued to work and save his money. Now
he is 17 years old, and lives in a house he built by himself. He is truly inspiring to me. If somebody can
go through something like that at nine or ten years old, I can go through so
much.
Elle shared a really meaningful message today. Coming to
Haiti, white Americans are generally viewed as very rich. Little do they know
that we would do anything to value the things they do, and to seek happiness
and the ability to revel when such happiness is achieved. All in all, we aren’t
the rich ones. They are rich. Rich in culture, beauty, passion, and so many
other things I can’t begin to describe.
Unfortunately, I can’t remember who said this because I
must have gotten side-tracked and didn’t write it down, but today we were
blessed with the opportunity to go to a children’s camp called Ti Moun Tete
Ansam (children’s heads together) which teaches the kids morals, values,
structure, and also feeds them well. There, we were able to meet Sister
Josepha, a Puerto Rican nun that came to lead the children at the camp. Also,
there was another missionary there from Poland. There were Haitians, Americans,
a Puerto Rican, and a Polish woman. Knowing that so many different races and
different types of people could come together and love each other, regardless
of the fact that most of us just met that day, is something I wish more people
could realize. There are no boundaries or no color of skin that can change the
fact that we are all human beings and that we all want the same thing.
If I had to pick the most influential/important/beautiful
moment of my day was seeing the children and spending most of my day with them.
One of the sweetest little boys there was named Zita. He was probably six years
old. These Haitian children were quite poor, but this little boy was by far more
impoverished. He was covered in dirt, had no pants on (the only child there
without them), and was picked on and terrorized by the other kids. Knowing
this, I automatically wanted to help him. As we were leaving, he scratched his
arm on a barbed-wire fence and started to cry. Instinctively, I ran over to
him, picked him up, and brought him over to our medical equipment. The scratch
was hardly noticeable, but I knew he needed positive attention. He sat on my
lap for probably twenty minutes as I put Neosporin and a Band-Aid on his little
scrape, and washed his arms, legs, and face off with multiple baby wipes. The
entire time I had to try and hold back tears. I knew he had no home life, he
had the same clothes on and was even more dirty than yesterday. Debbi plans on
talking to Joe (A local Haitian friend, responsible for most our mission work),
and we plan on bringing him pants. I know how much this will mean to him
because it was obvious to see how embarrassed he was because he had no pants or
underwear. The fact that someone at the age of 6, not a baby/toddler, but a
child who is embarrassed to be in public naked, absolutely broke my heart.
Leaving him Thursday will be a struggle.
Before I head off to sleep, I thought I would share
something light and humorous to lift the mood a little lol. Many of the
Haitians think Melissa is Chinese or Mexican because she is from the
Philippines. One little boy even asked her if she knew Jackie Chan or if she
had learned Tai-Kwon-Do! lol.
I’m sure you’ll be hearing from one of us tomorrow, but
for now goodnight!
Jess
