A new account of my typical day in Haiti...

Wednesday, March 10^th, 2010 6:15p.m.

The time has come once again, for a descriptive account of my

daily life here in Haiti this year. Now that we have come to some

point of consistency (as much consistency as is possible

in this country) I am able to give one:

I am pulled out a light sleep by the sound of clear, passionate Haitian voices carried through the cool, early morning air to my ears. I roll over on my cot, pull the blanket up to my chin and slowly open my eyes. It is still dark, the sky is sprinkled with stars, it is maybe 5:00 a.m., and Taz Kafe Sho (“Hot Cup of Coffee”), the daily before-dawn church service, is in full swing. I fall back asleep listening to the lively melodies the people raise up in praise of their Savior.

Around 6:30 a.m. I awake again, this time to broad daylight, puppies barking as they play-fight on the ground near our beds, guinea hens screeching, goats running out the gate on their way to the open fields, the boys pushing squeaky wheelbarrows filled with trash to be burned, and ladies rushing around to clean up and prepare breakfast. I make my bed, greet everyone I pass with “Bonjou,” and ask hopefully if it is possible for the ladies to make some dlo sho (“hot water”) for my bath. This is not by any means any everyday occurrence, but every once in a while we are granted the delightful opportunity to enjoy a warm bath after a cold, 65 degree night.

After a bath, devotions, and a breakfast of of spaghetti and fresh bread just bought on the street, the day has officially begun. For me there are papers to file, distribution lists to type, financial records to keep, rice and beans to measure and bag, e-mails to send, and blog entries to post. We take turns on the computers, internet and copier while the generator is running, and do our best to take advantage of the limited time we have with electricity.

Many times while in the middle of one of the above mentioned projects construction materials for one of the numerous construction projects Wilckly is conducting run out, and I am asked to go on an errand to buy more. I grab my backpack and some money, throw on a skirt over my shorts, and Elves, our driver, Smith, one of the boys, and I hop in the dump truck and drive to the nearby town of Williamson to “ashte” some cement, sand, rebar, or tin. Usually we stop on the way back to refuel the truck and buy some Cokes at the gas station, then it’s back to the yard to unload.

By now it is mid-afternoon, and our typical lunch of rice and beans and chicken (sometimes with a pleasant surprise of corn, carrots, or even salad on the side!) is served. After lunch we relax for a little while…I read, write, or play with the kids…then we finish up any work leftover from the morning. Very quickly the sun sinks low in the western sky, and all five of us: Kiki, Dee, Crash, Crystal, and I make the hike uphill to look over the work the men have completed that day. Already the land looks so different: it has been cleared of rocks and brush and thorns, a path made for the truck, tin fences are up, a foundation has been laid for a house and another is in progress, and two empty containers sit near the bottom, ready to be used for storage. We sit on the foundation, talking about the worries and stresses of the day, laughing and encouraging each other, and watching the sunset create a brilliant tapestry of golden-oranges and rosy-pinks over the cerulean blue of the ocean.

When it is dark we walk back down the mountain, followed by our ever-faithful watch dogs, and enter the gate, to be greeted by the fifty or so people who still spend every night underneath the tarps on the ground in our yard. A couple of hours later, when everyone has finally settled down, we don our warm clothes, make sure the inverter has enough charge to keep the yard lit all night, and make our way to our beds where we read, talk or listen to music until we fall asleep. The night is interspersed with sounds of babies crying, roosters crowing (by the way, it is an enormous falsehood that roosters only crow at the rising of the sun), and seven dogs all barking at once when they don’t recognize someone who has entered the yard, but for the most part we are able to sleep, and awaken – sometimes refreshed, sometimes not so much - ready for the next day.

What To Do When It Rains...After An Earthquake...In Haiti:

Sunday, February 28th, 2010

Step 1: Sit inside.

Step 2: When the Haitians "remind" you for the fifty-seventh time that it isn't safe to sit inside, re-locate to the outdoor office.

Step 3: Place large tarp over the "office," which includes: you, a desk, a chair, a computer, the internet modem, and cords.

Step 4: Watch a movie with some friends in the office under the tarp while munching on Pringles, canned peaches, and candy.

Step 5: Move office back inside when the light rain becomes a downpour and threatens to flood the theater.

Step 6: Dry off all electronic devices and cords.

Step 7: Decide it's time for bed.

Step 8: Move beds away from torn areas in tarps.

Step 9: Attempt to fall asleep, only to be rudely interrupted by raindrops that have made their way through holes in the tarps and

onto your face.

Step 10: Move beds again.

Step 11: Re-position yourself and the blankets on your bed so as to not repeat step 9.

Step 12: Attempt to fall asleep - again - to the sound of rain on a tarp...and pouring off of a tarp...onto you.

Our War Is Not With Flesh and Blood...

Saturday, February 13^th, 2010 4:00p.m.

“We are human, but we don’t wage war with human plans and methods.

We use God’s mighty weapons, not mere wordly weapons,

to knock down the devil’s strongholds.”

2 Corinthians 10:3-5

From the beginning, since we first arrived here, obstacle after obstacle has been dropped in our path. I knew Satan had his grip on this country, but never before have I seen evidence of this so plainly, right in my face, as it has been the last three weeks.

Thursday morning we finally made arrangements with our Dominican contact, and we quickly packed our bags and loaded up the trucks to go pick up our first big load of food and supplies. The long drive through northern Haiti was beautiful but as full of contrast as the rest of the country. We were surprised to see that Cap Haitian, the “tourist town” was just as filthy and destitute as the nation’s capital city. Every time my eyes are met once again with the harsh realities of this fourth-world country I have to fight waves of despair that rush over me like a flood. The enemy is very crafty in using these thoughts of hopelessness to discourage us from our work.

But when assaulting our emotions doesn’t work he turns to alternate, and more outright methods. Our pick-up truck broke down an innumerable amount of times before we finally reached our destination at the Dominican border. Then we faced a frustrating three hour wait while the border guards demanded more money, gave us more papers to be signed, and required more of our time before we could cross over. It seemed as though the devil was working overtime just to make sure we’d never get that much needed food. And then, when it seemed nothing could make it worse, and we’d received clearance to enter the Dominican Republic, the truck refused to start, again. The patience and peace displayed under such circumstances by those around me were astounding. The enemy would not prevail by gaining control over our attitudes as well.

When the engine was fixed we met our contact, loaded up the trucks ‘til they were near to overflowing with food, and were soon on our way back to the border, driving as fast as legally possible in order to arrive before the gates closed. But just as we pulled up, the guard who was going to work it out for us to get through was driving away, his shift over…and the border was closed.

At this point all we could do was laugh. At least we got to spend the night in a house with beds, blankets, good food, internet, phones, and electricity! And Crash and I got to sleep on the roof with a spray of stars across the night sky for a ceiling. Again I was grateful beyond words for God’s graciousness in knowing that “we are but dust” and that sometimes we need a break, even when such a thing may not be in our plans.

In the morning we rose early and made our way back to the border, only to wait once more while clearance papers for the rental vehicle were issued. What else would the devil come up with? Praise God that He is in ultimate control, for though we weren’t allowed in until four hours after we got there, and we had to send the rental car on its own happy way, piling all fourteen people in our three trucks for the ten hour drive, we finally made it home.

During my first three months serving in Haiti God showed me His unconditional love, His unfailing compassion, His enduring faithfulness. He taught me how He deals in His relationships with people. Since I have returned the lessons have been more blatant, and much more difficult to learn. He has been teaching me now how He expects our relationship to be, and how I am to deal with other people. I am to love the unlovable, those that in my estimations do not deserve love. I am to trust Him even when He gives me no answers for the “why’s?” I am to hope even when despair is imminent, and there seems to be no reason left for hope. Because there is.

For…though the fig tree should not blossom and there be no fruit on the vines,

Though the yield of the olive should fail and the fields produce no food, though the

flock should be cut off from the fold and there be no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice

in the God of my salvation: The Lord God is my strength, and He has made my feet

like hinds’ feet and has made me walk on high places.”

Habakkuk 3:17-19

And His will prevails. And we now have the food needed for our first distribution.

“But he who takes refuge in Me will inherit the land and will possess My holy mountain.

And it will be said, ‘Build up, build up, prepare the way, remove every obstacle out of the way of my people.’”

Isaiah 57:13-14

My First Week Back in Haiti...

Friday, January 29, 2010 8:00 p.m.

It was still dark when my eyes opened, awakened by the sound of beautiful Haitian voices unashamedly praising their Lord. I rolled over, too weary to get up yet, and tried to ignore the dampness of my sheets and pillow while listening to the enchanting melody. When light began to touch the sky I sat up in bed, my head almost touching the tarp hanging above us, and my eyes took in the sights that the blackness of the previous night had prevented me from viewing completely.

A large portion of our dusty yard was covered with blankets, sheets, carpets, and a few cots. Over a hundred people had slept here, and now they were rolling up their bedding and preparing to start their day. The air was heavy with dew, and cold – for Haiti – and everyone was moving slowly. I gathered my things, managed to procure the keys so I could find some toilet paper, and headed to the door-less outhouses. Roosters were crowing, turkeys and chickens pecking for food on the ground, dogs barking every time a stranger entered the gate, and Jhemson was leading our eight goats from their pen to the yard. I felt like I was in the middle of a movie.

That first day back was very eye-opening for me. I tried not to act as overwhelmed as I felt, but I was quickly coming to realize how truly sheltered my last three months at the beach had been. I was now seeing Haiti as it really was, because I was living as the rest of the people do. As always, it was the children that captured my heart. Precious little seven year old Melissa, whose mother left her to the care of Dee and Wickly (we don’t even know who her father is); Marc and Monique’s daughter Alexandra, the little princess; Ladiminka, the newest addition to the Dorces’ family, from the Dominican Republic; and Dadu, an adorable, quiet, little guy, whose pouty face is rarely without a smile. Little glimpses I’ve caught of the reality of their everyday lives have already broken my heart, and I am overflowing with a desire to show them every bit of attention and affection that I can while I am here.

My heart was beset by these emotions, and my mind was instantly overwhelmed as I observed how much work needed to be done. After a very long week of almost no connection with the outside world, finances dwindling, and people coming to them in droves for help, Dee and Wilckly were doing all they could just to house and feed those under their care. We need a bulldozer to prepare land for building temporary dwellings for all those needing shelter, we need food, food, and more food, we need storage containers in which to put all of the food, we need money, since the only places to receive transfers right now not only have lines a mile long, but really aren’t safe, either. The last week has been spent assessing these situations, making our plans of action, and waiting. Lots of waiting. This was not new to me, as I was first introduced to Haiti with its motto: “Hurry up and wait.” It has been no different this time, even in the wake of such a tremendous disaster.

It is actually very difficult to make these people out in the country realize how devastated their country is. Other than their fear of sleeping indoors, to them, life should go on as normal. And they try to make it so. But even though on the outside everything may seem to have gone back to the usual routine, everyone knows, deep down, that it hasn’t. Everyone walks around in a kind of daze, as if still unbelieving, in denial.

However, we are refusing to be discouraged. Even though every day seems to bring more closed doors and obstacles, there are always enough reasons to hope and keep smiling. God is going to use this horrible event for good, and we cling to that promise.

Hope in the midst of devestation...

Wednesday, January 27th, 2010 9:35p.m.

Yesterday we went to Port-au-Prince. We had to weave our way through back roads, around rubble, and over cracks and dips in the roads just to get to the airport. Though I had seen the devastation on TV, it was as though my eyes were new to the sights. House after house, building after building, walls, roads…collapsed, broken, lying in pieces. And it seemed so random: many a house untouched stood adjacent to another that had been flattened. I didn’t even want to think how many people had been inside – how many could still be under there.

We stopped at two tent camps to talk with people and take pictures. At one, the oh-so-intelligent Americans had decided to drive into the center of it, with an open truck full of food. They had no idea what they were getting themselves into. Of course, there were about twenty soldiers standing around the truck with guns, so they were managing to keep some kind of order. The other camp, which was farther from the airport, had received no aid that we knew of. Every single person in it had lost at least one child in the quake. They were hungry, thirsty, tired, and discouraged. We saw many of these refugee camps; the people had not seen one relief worker and were left to scrounge for their own food and water and construct their own makeshift tents with a few sticks, some ratty blankets and thin sheets.

It made me sick to my stomach when after we drove through these desolate areas we pulled into the airport and saw boxes piled ten feet high, fields and containers full of food, just sitting there. People come to help for a few days, stacking and unloading boxes of supplies, probably most never venture inside the city, then leave again, after giving themselves a little pat on the back, saying, “Look what I did for poor little Haiti.”

Perhaps I sound bitter…no, I am not bitter, only sorely disappointed. Everyone seems to think that this country, which was the poorest country in the western hemisphere even before the earthquake, and that had a broken and corrupt government already, will pick itself up within weeks. This is not only extremely optimistic, it is unrealistic. It will be years, decades, before Haiti will be on its feet, not again, but for the first time.

However, in the midst of this discouraging situation, there is hope. This is an opportunity for Haiti to change for the better, now that the rest of the world has finally noticed her. I only pray that the rest of the world will not fumble its chance to help.

Thursday, January 14th, 2010

Dear Friends,

I am doing my best to cover all the bases so that everyone who is receiving any of my updates will know what is going on. By now most of the world knows of the disaster that occurred in Haiti just a day and a half ago. I was scheduled to fly back down there the day after the earthquake hit. I am still here in the States, with a re-scheduled flight for Thursday, January 31st, and we are doing our best here to gather the much needed supplies and funds to bring back with us.

A note of praise: we finally heard from the Dorces and they are all safe. They were actually about two hours north of Carries (which is 50 mi. from Port-au-Prince) when it happened, and though they felt it, they, and everyone back at the beach in Carries were safe. They have had floods of wounded, homeless people coming to them for aid, and they are quickly running out of the small amount of supplies they did have. Please pray, and keep on praying, that they will have the energy, wisdom, and resources to help wherever they can. They are desperately in need of help and supplies, and right now the best we can do for them is to pray and gather these supplies. God is sovereign, and they are in His hands. He has placed them there for such a time as this, and He has put Crash and I here in the States to make it possible for supplies and funds to get to them. Praise Him for His all-perfect ways and timing!

I will not be updating my Blog as often as Facebook and e-mail, so if you would like to hear the more frequent updates, please send me an e-mail at smarie87@gmail.com.

Taking a break from Math....

Wednesday, December 9th, 2009 8:00p.m.

Palm tree branches doubled over, churning waves crashing upon the shore, water pouring over the fishing dock like small waterfalls, sailboats tossed and turned far off course, jackets and long sleeves donned, temperature dropped sufficiently.

Perhaps this seems to be referencing some tropical storm. No - it's just a description of a blustery day in Haiti. The wind suddenly picked up late this morning, and soon school papers were blowing all over the place, so Ashley and I decided it was time to take a break on the beach. We were instantly entranced...with spray from the frothy waves sprinkling our faces, the deafening wind and crashing waves filling our ears...this opportunity could not be passed up; Math would wait. Crash joined us, and we all jumped in, riding the gigantic waves, screaming and laughing as they pulled and pushed us, now throwing us onto the rocky shore, now threatening to bury us in the depths. When we tired of being tossed like dirty clothes in a washing machine, we sat on the edge of the dock and let the white caps splash up over our already drenched selves. A thorough and rewarding search for seashells along the shore was the perfect finale to our afternoon adventure.

Two hours later we traversed upstairs to bathe and relax, invigorated but exhausted. The wind had slowed a bit, but the pretty little wind chime hanging in my window was still tinkling delightfully. Sigh. Another wonderful day in Haiti.