Beautiful Haiti
Karin White wrote this beautiful piece following her 1st mission trip experience in Haiti. I added some pictures and share it with Karin’s permission.
Beautiful Haiti
In Bercy, Haiti there lies a haven. From the beautiful sunrise to the darkness of each day’s end – adults, children and Haitians of every age in between struggle to survive. God’s plan and the vision of a follower of Christ, who had a heart for Haitians, has become a reality. Education, medical care, basic human needs and the love of God’s children BY God’s children is available in a HOME where outside of the orphanage walls – gathering clean water in dirty containers is one of the necessities of the day.
In Bercy, Haiti there lies a haven. From the beautiful sunrise to the darkness of each day’s end – adults, children and Haitians of every age in between struggle to survive. God’s plan and the vision of a follower of Christ, who had a heart for Haitians, has become a reality. Education, medical care, basic human needs and the love of God’s children BY God’s children is available in a HOME where outside of the orphanage walls – gathering clean water in dirty containers is one of the necessities of the day.
After exiting the American Airlines aircraft, I was surprised that the weather didn’t feel as hot as I had expected. But as I stepped off of the plane, it didn’t take me long to realize that nothing I would encounter in the next ten days would be anything that I could have ever imagined. As I passed through the wooden and glass cubicles of Haitian Customs, the search for the precious Army green duffle bags and luggage began. In the baggage claim area, my almost 5 foot stature was tossed to and fro. I wondered if I hadn’t gotten on an ancient fishing boat that was being tossed about in a sea storm. I was brushed by people who didn’t even acknowledge my presence. At the time, I was unaware of how quickly the acknowledgment my presence would change. Welcome to Haiti – here’s your first survival lesson. Push your way through the crowds, avoid eye contact and forget any degree of courteous behavior that you may have been taught growing up in the friendly state side South.
With green cards and blue passports in hand, the second leg of our journey began. The long process of “hurry up and wait”, Haitian style was brought to an end when we hurried ourselves through the baggage check in customs. The red and white Digicel kiosk at the airport was the first business that caught my attention. Through out the next ten days the amount of cell phone usage would be one of the most unexpected certaintities that I would be amazed by in Haiti. The sight that was to follow was beyond belief. The crowd of people behind the barricades was at least 3 Haitians deep. A group of Haitians had found shelter from the sun inside of a bus stop but there was no relief from the heat. At first it seemed nice to believe that every Man, Woman and
Child had gathered outside of the airport to welcome the “blancs” to their native land. In stark contrast, however, the reality of the poverty and need of the Haitian people was being displayed before my very eyes. I was saddened by the realization that if I helped even one person by giving them what they asked for, I would probably be mobbed along with the person that I had helped. Cautious behaviors helped us avoid any trouble that our presence might bring with it. Was I seen as a money tree? Could I fill the Haitian hands with my possessions? Sadly, I knew that they thought if they could just reach my overalls some would be able to eat for the first time in many days or even weeks.
Child had gathered outside of the airport to welcome the “blancs” to their native land. In stark contrast, however, the reality of the poverty and need of the Haitian people was being displayed before my very eyes. I was saddened by the realization that if I helped even one person by giving them what they asked for, I would probably be mobbed along with the person that I had helped. Cautious behaviors helped us avoid any trouble that our presence might bring with it. Was I seen as a money tree? Could I fill the Haitian hands with my possessions? Sadly, I knew that they thought if they could just reach my overalls some would be able to eat for the first time in many days or even weeks. 
With my mind still reeling from this feeling, I found some comfort when our American friends arrived. They were working the system so that all of our precious cargo made it into the old blue Ford pickup and the Vanagon with the folding chairs for the passengers. “See Rusty” – wasn’t just a cute quote from a Dick and Jane like book, but rather an escape from the begging eyes and outstretched hands of the men who had loaded our suitcases. I chose the seat just behind and between the driver and Ms. Eleanor. My car sickness didn’t need to kick in at any moment so I rode with my head held high and straight forward. Even now, two weeks after being away from the Haitian soil my mind still races to assimilate all of what I saw as we drove cautiously through the streets of Port-Au-Prince and into the small, poverty stricken place called Bon Repos.As we rode along, Rusty shared interesting facts about the places that we were passing through. He was excited that we had arrived safely and that all of the bags had made it from Jacksonville. Very cold refilled water bottles
were passed around the Vanagon to help relieve the sweltering heat that we were experiencing. Recycled
water bottles became a staple in Haiti. 
No one could have prepared themselves for Haiti – the sights and smell. Upon my arrival in Haiti, I realized that even the poorest person I knew in America was rich compared to any number of people I was seeing. I was overwhelmed by the combination of hot air, pothole ridden streets, throngs of people in need, empty or unfinished run down buildings and small streams of water which were used for everything from cisterns for humans and animals to latrines for the same. It was wash day – I knew it had to be!!! As we passed over a bridge that was preceded by a wasteland of garbage – Burnt garbage at that! It didn’t take long for me to realize that wash day was just about every day for at least one Haitian because it didn’t become a rare sight to me.
The “smell of Haiti” lingered in my nostrils. My breathing was uncomfortable and even nauseating at first. I originally tried to breathe through my mouth to avoid the burning sensation that I had with each inhalation. Much to my dismay, my mouth just got dry and I had to gulp down more “Culligan” just to get a small amount of relief. Without bringing attention to myself – I devised a system of taking short quick breaths alternating between my mouth and my nose. I can’t really say that it helped my situation, but at the time it was a small, yet welcomed relief.
The security officer and his sawed off shotgun greeted us at the door of the Phoenix Grocery Store. The cool air from the system in the store was a reward. I wondered if we stayed there longer than expected just because no one wanted to enter back into the world we had just escaped. A third world country, especially the poorest one in the Western Hemisphere should not be visited without great amounts care and security. Large groups of people are not typically sought out by armed would-be kidnappers. However, large groups of Americans are sought out by the street beggars. The poverty that had taken over Haiti had no favorites. Everyone was a victim.
ge diggers. Young children were the most regularly seen looking through the smoking embers to find something that they might sell at the market, perhaps they might find a reasonable amount of charcoal that would bring in enough money for a bite of food to eat.
The movement through the city was heralded by auto horns being blasted at the unfortunate slower vehicle in the lead. Joshua certainly could have used some of this chaos when He and the Israelites were walking around the walls of Jerico. Someone mentioned that the rule was to honk as you passed – however, I decided that the sound of a horn being blown was just an annoying Haitian past time. Movement and loitering are not words that are normally paired together. In Haiti, there is much movement and an excessive amount of loitering. Each small area of activity is tightly packed with any number of people with or without any worldly possessions.
The small, elderly man outside of the grocery store begging, the hurting, sick child with an infected burn, the babies who sit motionless on a blanket inside of a rescue center, and the mother and fatherless orphans completely outnumber the healthy, employable people of Haiti. The mother who tries to leave her sick baby at an orphanage demonstrates both hope and despair. She has hope that her child will get what he needs to survive and despair that her second child will be born in a few months and she still will not have the resources that she needed for the first baby.
Droves of impatient people, who seldom have no place to go, line the streets in tap-taps, new
cars and old, burrows, mopeds and motorbikes. People honking, screaming, begging and soliciting also line the streets. The scents of animals, garbage, fire, and diesel fuel fill the air as well. I don’t know that I ever saw any glimmer of hope in the eyes of the people in the street. They wanted us to buy their goods so that they could survive another day but once they realized that we were going to say no- they just moved on to another person passing by.
As we moved closer to our destination, we moved deeper into the culture of a truly foreign country. The streets were lined with trash. In places the burnt trash was peppered with garba
ge diggers. Young children were the most regularly seen looking through the smoking embers to find something that they might sell at the market, perhaps they might find a reasonable amount of charcoal that would bring in enough money for a bite of food to eat.The movement through the city was heralded by auto horns being blasted at the unfortunate slower vehicle in the lead. Joshua certainly could have used some of this chaos when He and the Israelites were walking around the walls of Jerico. Someone mentioned that the rule was to honk as you passed – however, I decided that the sound of a horn being blown was just an annoying Haitian past time. Movement and loitering are not words that are normally paired together. In Haiti, there is much movement and an excessive amount of loitering. Each small area of activity is tightly packed with any number of people with or without any worldly possessions.
The small, elderly man outside of the grocery store begging, the hurting, sick child with an infected burn, the babies who sit motionless on a blanket inside of a rescue center, and the mother and fatherless orphans completely outnumber the healthy, employable people of Haiti. The mother who tries to leave her sick baby at an orphanage demonstrates both hope and despair. She has hope that her child will get what he needs to survive and despair that her second child will be born in a few months and she still will not have the resources that she needed for the first baby.
Droves of impatient people, who seldom have no place to go, line the streets in tap-taps, new
cars and old, burrows, mopeds and motorbikes. People honking, screaming, begging and soliciting also line the streets. The scents of animals, garbage, fire, and diesel fuel fill the air as well. I don’t know that I ever saw any glimmer of hope in the eyes of the people in the street. They wanted us to buy their goods so that they could survive another day but once they realized that we were going to say no- they just moved on to another person passing by.
WELCOME HOME!!! Welcome to Bercy a village outside of Cabaret, Haiti. The welcoming party at the orphanage wasn’t over 8 or 9 years of age. Sweet children reaching up to be held joined the few nannies and cooks who came to see what this group of Americans looked like. We quickly
made friends and began mutilating the “Hatitian Creole” language. It wasn’t until I got home that I realized why the adults snickered at me when I greeted them with “Bon Jour” whenever I saw them…any time of the day. Bon Jour means Good Morning!!!
made friends and began mutilating the “Hatitian Creole” language. It wasn’t until I got home that I realized why the adults snickered at me when I greeted them with “Bon Jour” whenever I saw them…any time of the day. Bon Jour means Good Morning!!! 
Our days were filled with seemingly mundane yet incredibly rewarding activities. Organizing other people’s things is something that I do well. Our group had brought many clothes and shoes with us. We were told that if we saw a child who needed new clothes or shoes we should go ahead and fit them. It didn’t take long for the news to spread. The children came from everywhere, just like ants at a picnic. The delight in the little girls’ eyes was overwhelming. I fitted many of the little girls with clothes that had belonged to my two daughters the summer before. I never had been given the opportunity to see how blessed I was, until I saw the face of a child who had a new “used” pair of flip flops. She told me “merci, merci” over and over again!!!
In any culture, education is the key to success. It is also the key to survival in Haiti. Any child who can learn French, English and basic math skills will be employable in the years to come. The parents in the community of Bercy have the opportunity to send their children to Cabaret Baptist Christian School. These children number almost 200. Each morning at 8 am SHARP they participate in a flag raising ceremony on the school grounds. The children line up in military fashion and they exhibit the greatest display of patriotism. I was so moved when I saw the children take part in this activity. The respect and honor that they show their flag floored me. I remember thinking every American child should have to participate in this “ritual” every morning. Americans have so much more to be thankful for and it would do us all good to be more patriotic. 
The evenings, after dinner, just before bedtime were time consuming, tiring yet so addicting. The children who could climb the stairs were allowed to go upstairs to visit with the “Americans”. The babies, however, rarely went upstairs. The time I spent downstairs holding and loving on the “babies” was one of the most rewarding times that I spent in Haiti. The children took no thought to you holding one or two children, if they wanted to be held they just pushed their way into your lap and joined the crowd. Their smiles were precious and at first heartbreaking. I had a preconceived idea that a Haitian orphan must be like the orphans I had seen in the movies in America. However, these orphans didn’t sit around singing Tomorrow and crying because their parents didn’t want to take care of them. An orphan in Haiti is one of the most blessed in the country. If any one of the children at Cabaret Baptist Children’s Home was outside of the guarded gate living their life they would almost certainly have no hope of 
tomorrow. Statistics state that 1 out of every 5 Haitian children will die. In the orphanage, the children are given 3 hot meals per day, clothes, shoes, medicine, an education and a soft bed to sleep in at night. The children are guarded by adults who love them and they are taught about the love that Jesus has for them.
The children that we encountered have experienced more heartbreak in their short lives than anyone should…but they keep on going. Many Haitian children do not know on which day they were born. Some children will never know their mom or their dad. Several children that we saw are miracles…they are lucky to be alive. The malnutrition, the unsafe living conditions, the lack of access to clean water and food are enough to wipe out entire populations. The teenage pregnancy rate is out of control and a little less then half of the patients that we saw have some form of sexually transmitted disease. However, Praise to God is offered every Friday and Sunday by the Haitians that love their God. He is their Savior, Redeemer and Hope for their tomorrow.
I didn’t give anything to the people of Haiti that was exclusive of me. Haiti gave to me. God changed me. He changed my eyes to see His children – as He sees them. He changed my ears to hear His children – as He hears them. He changed my heart to love His children – and to see how much he loves them. I left Haiti with the words – Beautiful Haiti in my mind. As we drove past the many miles of garbage on the way to the airport, I saw the beauty of the mountains on my left and the magnificent view of the Caribbean Ocean on my right. But in my heart, I saw the precious, beautiful faces of the children that have been rescued from hopelessness…to Hopefulness in God.
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