Unrelenting

Today I came to the realization that we are halfway through our time in Haiti. It is hard to believe we have been here six months. We joke about the time paradox in Haiti by saying the days fly by at such a slow pace. On one hand the days seem to crawl by as the pace set culturally is much slower than that in the United States. Relationships rule, not clocks. It is completely acceptable to be late for a meeting because you were with another person. In fact it would be rude to cut time short with one person in order to meet with another. Events start and end, not by the clock, but when they are good and ready to start or end. On the other hand, I look back at the end of each day and wonder where it went to. Where did last week go? What happened to the last 6 months?! They flew by at such a slow pace.

Being my halfway point in Haiti, I have been thinking about all the things I have learned, the ways I have grown, and the people I have met. The list is nearly endless. In the day to day, it seems that I just live each day with what is set before me... no big deal. But as I look back on my time here, I realize I have grown in leaps and bounds. But that may be for another blog post.

As part of our position with NVM over the past six months, we have organized and facilitated the many short term teams that come to Haiti to serve in various capacities. I haven’t counted recently but we are well over 400 people that have come and gone here in the past 6 months (and we have over 150 more coming in June alone). And through all those people we are repeatedly asked one question. “What is the hardest part of living in Haiti?”

So, what is the hardest part of living in Haiti?

I am sure if you asked 10 expatriates this question, their answers would vary. Perhaps the language barrier. Or the cultural differences. Or the bugs :) (I have yet to go an entire 24 hour period without seeing a spider.. in fact I just killed 4 in my bathroom today). There are many hard things about living in a place that is so different from the one you are used to. I often struggle with the feeling of containment. I don’t have a vehicle that I can hop in and go wherever I want whenever I want, like I do in the States. Even if I did, there really isn’t any place to go. No malls. No parks. No friends houses. And as I thought about it, while that is frustrating at times, it isn’t the hardest part for me. No, the hardest part is the unrelenting nature of suffering that I see.

This morning I walked outside of the office and got stopped by a women and her child. She told me that she had come to the clinic to seek medical care for her sick child but came too late and there were no more numbers for the day. Each day people walk or take public transport from miles around to be seen in the NVM clinic. The two nurses, Kacie and Aubree, and Dr. Pinina Edmonds see about 40-50 patients each day. Here are some patients waiting to be seen:

The patients come early and are usually lined up by 6am to see the doctor. Numbers are given out on a first come, first serve basis and sometimes there just isn’t enough time to give out numbers for all present. This lady came too late today and didn’t get a number. As I spoke with her I realized her baby was sick with a fever and cough but it didn’t seem life threatening. I consulted with Kacie and we decided to give her some Tylenol to take home and have her come back the following day... early, so she could get a number to be seen. As I spoke with the lady she asked me when I would return to the United States. I told her not until next November to which she responded “Can you please take my baby with you when you go?”.

I asked her if she loved her baby and she replied that she certainly did but that she had 4 other children and no money and no food to feed them. She wanted me to take her baby to feed it. That is what she said. “Please take my baby to feed it”. Not “Please take my baby so it can get an education and a good job and good healthcare and toys and clothes...”. She didn't say all that. She simply said “take and feed my baby”. What can you say to that? Of course I told her that I couldn’t... wouldn’t. And that she is a good mother and God placed this baby with her for a reason. But how desperate must you be to want to give your child to a total stranger?

And this isn’t the first time I have been asked to take a child. In fact, I was asked by another women not even 30 minutes later. It is relentless.

After church each weekend I am bombarded with people asking for food, clothes, or shoes. It is relentless. The mental and physical suffering of those around us, in such close proximity, is relentless. The poor health, lack of sanitation, physical poverty, and hunger is relentless.

I am not going to ever make it go away. I can’t. The problems are too big, too multifaceted and too old to just go away. It will take generations to make a change. And, while it can seem hopeless, it really isn’t. It’s like that old warn out story of the boy saving the starfish on the beach. Change happens slowly and often one step at a time, one person at a time. But each change really matters to that one person.

I feel privileged to be a part of an organization like Nehemiah Vision Ministries. An organization run by a Haitian man of integrity, that sees everyone as they should be seen. Not defined by what they have not, but defined by what they do have and by the potential within them. God made each person as a special reflection of Him. He didn’t make everyone to be rich like Bill Gates, or be a middle class American, or a famous movie star. He has a plan for each of us. Sometimes it just takes a little nudge or a hand up (not a handout) to make a big difference.

Well, that is what I have learned in my six months in Haiti.

And I want to thank all of you who have made it possible for me to be here. So many have supported us financially, spiritually, and physically and we don’t take you for granted!

“The difference between what we do and what we are capable of doing would suffice to solve most of the world's problem.” -Mahatma Gandhi