Today was, for the most part, a travel day. We left the
house at 4:30AM to catch our first flight, spent a couple of hours in Miami,
and finally arrived in Port-Au-Prince at around 2:15PM. Our lovely group
consists of my Dad, Michael (my brother), Jim and Lauren Christie, Alicia
Cintas; Maria, Lainey, and Olivia Bedford; and of course myself. We met up with
some old and new Food For The Poor (FFP) companions as well. I knew Georgia,
Daniel, and Madam Guirre from our last trip, but was also excited to meet
Lesli, our leader for the week, and Ben, the photographer.
We are
staying in Wahoo Bay tonight, which is only about five minutes from Bernard’s
beach house. For anyone who doesn’t know, Bernard is a native Haitian from a
wealthier family who has devoted his life to creating “fishing village”
projects with FFP. We met him on our 2012 trip to Haiti, and he inspired us to
raise the money to build a fishing village. We had the evening free, so we decided
to stop by and visit Bernard, his wife, and his son. I had heard his incredible conversion story before, but it was good for the rest of our group to hear it first hand
as well. And of course, Jim and my dad idolize him, so they were soaking up
every second of conversation.
The hotel
is on the beach with a stunning view of both the ocean and the mountains.
Sometimes I forget how beautiful of a country Haiti really is. When we first got
to our rooms, the doors were wide open allowing every bug and fly in the country
to come on in and make itself at home. They were on the walls, floors, beds--
everywhere! In addition, the room was hot and muggy. My immediate reaction was
to complain to Alicia about the less than perfect conditions and the fact that I would
probably be sweaty and eaten alive by bugs in my sleep. In the US a paying
guest would never have to deal with this at a hotel. I guess I was still stuck
in that mindset because it actually took me a couple of hours to realize how
ridiculous I was being. The majority of people on this island are
crammed together on dirt floors in a tent or hut, probably sweating more than
me, while mosquitos and flies land on their skin at will. Many of them have not had a
filling meal or a bath in days. Taking that reality into consideration, I have to say that I have never been so
grateful for a hard, uncomfortable hotel bed in my life.
Tomorrow is
the big day! We will finally get to inaugurate the fishing village and meet
the people of Gros Mangle! (Which is apparently pronounced “Gwo Mong”… who
knew??) The anticipation for this has been building for over a year! I cannot
even express how grateful I am to God and everyone back home who
helped to make this insane dream a reality. Bernard was in Gros Mangle last
Tuesday and says that the people are very excited to meet us. To be honest, I
am beyond nervous. Not everyone appreciates Americans as much as we would like to
think. What if they resent us, who left our cozy lives just for a few days and
know very little about their culture anyway? I am also worried that the
language barrier will make it impossible to communicate with them. Mostly
though, I am freaking out on the inside about the speech that Jim wants me to
deliver at the inauguration ceremony. What could I possibly say to them that
would actually impact their lives? It feels as if they could teach me so much about life and I really have nothing to offer them. Talk about anxiety!
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