I am beginning to feel more like myself. My unfit, need exercise self. ;-) But this is a good thing. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like.
I'm also turning my attention towards things about which I was passionate before cancer distracted me. Haiti.
In 2008 my church began a relationship with an organization in Haiti called Reaching Haiti 4 Christ. The executive director is a Haitian man named, Steven Daniel Exantus. He and his family live in the Miami area, but have been going back and forth to Haiti for decades with the sole purpose of giving back to their hometowns and spreading the good news of the gospel.
Pastor Steve has founded two schools and churches in Haiti. One is in the capital city, Port-au-Prince, and one is in his hometown in Northwest Haiti, in the community of Bombardopolis. Our church began sending school supplies to these two schools back in 2009, and also began planning our first missions trip.
When the earthquake of 2010 struck, we did not know if we'd be able to go, but Pastor Steve said we should still try. So in July of that year, six months after the earthquake, six of us from our church made our first trip to Haiti. We traveled by car to Bombardopolis from Port-au-Prince - an unforgettable 16 hour drive over mostly dirt roads. Haiti's equivalent to our west coast's "highway 1" is beautiful, rugged, dangerous and rocky. I have to tell you….
We left Port-au-Prince around 7 a.m. in two four-wheel-drive vehicles. The first half of the trip was on paved roads through various small towns along Haiti's northern coast. We drove at a normal pace for crowded roads. I saw fields where rice is grown. I saw walls around expensive homes right on the coast. I saw children bathing in ditches. I still remember the hot sun beating down on us as we made a few stops along the way to pick up food and supplies. The blue Caribbean sea on our left and the mountains to our right. Occasionally we would go through small pockets of civilization with grocery stores, cell-phone booths where you could buy your minutes, fruit stands - honestly, just bustling caribbean towns. We also stopped in the first capital city of Haiti, Gonaives. This city was hit by a number of hurricanes between 2004 and 2008. But it still stands proud. With amazing architecture.
But eventually the pavement ran out. Shortly after leaving Gonaives there was simply no more pavement. The road narrowed and the landscape became less populated. We passed salt flats. We passed thatched huts. Yes, thatched huts. Fishing boats. Rocky beaches strewn with conch shells. Children playing soccer with a ball made of wadded up and tied together plastic grocery bags. The road began to climb until we were on a rather narrow rocky road 100 feet above the sea. No one lived up here. Or so we thought. We passed a small hut on the cliffside - as we passed five or six children ran out to greet us and ask for food. Two of them were naked.
The sun was beginning to set. We'd been on the road for 10 hours. When I asked Pastor Steve how much longer to Bombaropolis, he replied, in typical Haitian form, "Less than 10 hours."
We ran into a roadblock at one point. Just for us. Apparently word had gotten around (by motorbike - they were faster than we were) that there were foreigners on the road. At the roadblock Pastor Steve got out and talked to the men who said we could go by only if we gave them $100. Pastor Steve said to them, "Do you know who I am? I'm a pastor from Bombardopolis and these Americans are coming with me to work in that community and bring food and medicine to my neighbors. How dare you demand money from them. They are here to help." And we were allowed through, no more problems.
However, it's really getting to be dark now. And the landscape more and more rugged. As the sun fell and the moon rose the going got very slow. The road was like driving through a dried up riverbed. We slowed to a crawl. We saw a glowing fire in the distance and learned that this was the reason the mountains were deforested. The glowing was from a buried tree or trees which were on fire to produce coal which is what's used to cook - even in the cities.
Our little caravan began to climb into the mountains now. Our exhaustion was palpable. Time began to have no meaning. And then, just like that, we were in Bombardopolis. We didn't see it coming because there's on electricity. No lights to guide us. Just the bumpy road. But Pastor Steve knew where we were going, and we trusted him completely.
Somehow we found our sleeping quarters - four to a room - two on a bed and two on the floor. There was a generator, so there was light at Pastor Steve's home compound of about 3 acres. And the drive was done.
It took us 16 hours to drive 90 miles.
If you're still reading, congratulations. I can get long-winded when describing life-changing events. To learn more about the organization and to see photos, please visit our website - yes, I said OUR website, by going to
www.hope4haiti.net -- I feel so connected, even 5 years after that first trip. I will journal more about Haiti at a later date. My passion is still strong.
