Haiti Happenings 5 - The End

Our last moments in Haiti. We woke up at 4:30 am (2:30 our time) so that we could have breakfast, say our goodbyes, load up the car, drive to Port au Prince and do a little souvenir shopping in town before heading for the airport to fly home.

I was shocked to find the little ones up at this time in the wee hours of the morning (though the sun was peeking out). A few were still asleep and I prayed that they would wake up soon enough so that I could kiss their little faces and say goodbye.

After breakfast, it was time to say goodbye. I kissed each beautiful "timoon" and said "mwe reme ou" (I love you) with quiet tears streaming down my face. I meant every word. Oh, how I loved these wonderful, strong little humans. Little Anna sat on my lap with tears in her eyes. Was there really an adoption freeze in Haiti? Couldn't I just take them all home with me? Okay, so the Lord knows me well enough to know that I can't even handle three... none-the-less 25 more, but I hated to simply walk away from these dear friends. We said our goodbyes to everyone there... they each made this trip absolutely unforgettable. From Carole's amazing hospitality and meals, to the helpers who insisted on making our bed each morning... they will never know how much of an impact they had on us.

We put our luggage in the truck and hopped in. I tried so hard not to think about driving away. I was actually thinking about my own darling children that I missed so dearly... that helped the tears disappear as we drove away from the orphanage. I was so excited to see my own little timoons!

Saint Marc was full of people sweeping the dirt off of their mats, riding their bikes, setting up their merchandise for the day, picking fruit, getting water from the wells, and anything else they could before the heat of the day set in. It was beautifully quiet... a perfect way to exit Saint Marc.

As we drove along the now familiar street to Port au Prince, I loved watching the cute kids walking to school in their crisp, clean uniforms. I was always in awe of the amount of people that would fit into a tiny truck, or on top of a huge bus. The scooters were crazy no matter what time of the day it was, and even in our last moments, I was praying that we would live through the drive.

We came upon a familiar spot I called the "farm land". Most of the stretch from Saint Marc to Port au Prince had some huts or markets which lined the main road, but there was a point right before we hit Port au Prince which was open land. It also smelled weird (like some farm lands do).

All of a sudden it hit me... I quickly asked where the dead bodies from the earthquake were buried and Richard (the security guard) pointed out the window. The smell burned my nose. The smell was worse now that I knew what it was. Tears appeared in my eyes for the millionth time this trip. Hundreds of thousands of bodies, piled on top of each other in a mass, impersonal grave. Unbelievable.

My heavy heart became even heavier as I saw the tents on the hill.

This was a new living community of people who lost their homes and wanted to escape the city Port au Prince, yet be close enough to be able to get some supplies. What happens to those poor tents on the hill when the torrential rains come? What do they drink without any water sources nearby? How can they stand the smell that lingers just down the hill from them? I had so many sad questions that I almost didn't want to know the answer to.

We arrived in Port au Prince. I always knew when we were in Port au Prince because of the little kids that would come and beg at the window for money. Their face and my face so close, just separated by some glass. I couldn't look into their eyes or else I may have given them everything I owned. Some kids would even start cleaning the outside of the truck so we would pay them. Shouldn't I pay them for trying as hard as they knew how to earn a couple of dollars? Once again my hand was slapped (not literally) as I reached in my pocket... I understood it was for our own protection, but so what? How bad could the mauling for money be? Were they that desperate? As I looked around once again, I realized that answer to that question was yes. Amputated individuals limping over rubble, people suffering in so many different ways. How can they be saved? How are they going to get their lives back to "normal"? What can we do and where do we start? I asked Peter these questions as we neared the airport and he said "one person at a time". That was a good answer. I felt a peace knowing that we (and so many others) were able to help Fritzner and bring some joy to their lives (although incomparable to the amount of joy they brought to ours). As we continue to raise money, pray for, and help Fritzner, we are helping one person in Haiti who will, without a doubt, go on to pay it forward.

So, in all of my rambling, I want to thank everyone who contributed to the supplies for Danny's Eagle project. Thank you to Danny and the Duvalls for putting everything together in such an organized manner. Thank you to 1-2-3 Learn Preschool and Nicholas Valley Elementary students for donating so much money to help these dear friends. Thank you to Dallin for having such a great idea and a kind heart. Thank you to my husband who would take me with him on a journey such as this. Thank you to my parents and sister for watching our kids so we could take this journey. Thank you to everyone who keeps the people of Haiti in your prayers. All of these things have made a positive difference in a country that needs it... how blessed I am to have witnessed it first-hand.

As we pulled up near the airport, we grabbed a couple of souvenirs and then were dropped off. We had another set of goodbyes as we thanked Captain (our driver) for keeping us alive and Richard for making sure that this American girl wasn't stolen for ransom. Our last goodbye was to our dear friend Fritzner as he helped us pull all of our empty suitcases out of the truck. Here is a man that I have admired from afar, but now have a deep respect and love for. He is truly a dear friend and brother. It wasn't actually a goodbye, it was a see you soon. That felt better.

We went through about a dozen security screenings and finally made it into the waiting area. We were 3 hours early for our flight, and as I felt the sweat drip from my brow and smelled the smoke from the woman sitting next to me, I knew it was going to be a long afternoon. It was so freakin' hot in there and the large fan in front of us was not helping at all. At any other time in my life, I would have been miserable... a complaining mess. This time, it was different. With all that I had witnessed in the past few days, I was incredibly grateful to have a husband to sit by, a computer to play with, a water bottle to drink, and enough funds to be able to fly home. Eventually the air conditioning kicked in and Peter and I enjoyed our Battleship battles.

As we waited, I went in to use the restroom. As I was washing my hands, a beautiful little Haitian girl (probably 7) handed me a paper towel to dry my hands. As I said "merci", she grabbed my hands and began to stroke them. She touched my face and then hair. She held my hand as we walked out of the bathroom together. We smiled at each other as I walked back to my chair in the waiting room. I will never forget how beautiful, kind and strong the Haitians are.

Although I have used thousands of words to describe this most memorable trip, there is no way to truly convey the experience we had. It was unbelievable. It was hot. It was wonderful. It was horrible. It was emotional. It was beautiful. It was sad. It was humbling. It was strengthening. Most of all, it was life-changing. A short journey with long-lasting effects.

I can't wait to go back...

(If you happened to read all of these lengthy Haiti posts, I hope you don't have a headache :). I would love to hear who has been reading, so please leave a comment. And thanks for reading.)