Wednesday: The First 24 Hours Sitting under the shade of an almond tree I struggle to put words to all I am seeing and hearing.  It strikes me that when I left Fredericton I was praying “God: your heart, your eyes, your ears.” I wanted this experience in Haiti to change me, to make me more sensitive to who God is, the needs of this world and to move beyond the emotive response of poverty and injustice to something tangible; bring home a reality to inspire and motivate  myself and others to make a difference and think beyond ourselves.  Willard Metzgar Director for Church Relations with World Vision Canada says it well  ” what we desire is for Haitian relationship and relief to become an expression of the city of Fredericton.”   We arrived in Haiti, excited and expectant of what this trip would mean for us, the Fredericton community and Haitians.  Unknowing, but praying for God’s direction in our every step and plans for the future.  After hours on the plane hashing over potential details for future marketing, we landed, guarded and as prepared as we could be for what was ahead of us.   Willard met us at the airport gate.  We had been warned to keep a tight hold of our luggage as there would be a crowd of Haitians gathered wanting to assist us with our luggage and that if they were to get a hold of our luggage this would be an informal contract between us involving payment.  To avoid attempting to figure this out I had a tight grasp on my luggage.  One man was adamant to help me with my luggage as he repeated the words “World Vision!” “World Vision!”  I wondered if he was our driver and I was being rude, but I figured I could apologize for rudeness later.  Come to find out this man was not with World Vision and I was right to hold tight to my luggage.  We met Fritz, behind a gated parking lot.  Fritz was our World Vision driver and he was going to drive us through town to our hotel.    I wanted to soak in the city and not appear to be suffering from culture shock, naïve or staring, but I was shocked and overwhelmed at the thousands of people lining the streets of Port-au-Prince.  Naively I asked Willard what they were waiting for, thinking it was the bus, or a ride somewhere.  “They are unemployed. “ he said.  Unemployment is 70% in Haiti.  I knew the stat but I didn’t understand the reality of what that looked like.  People sitting , lining the streets, without anywhere to go, nothing to do.  Unemployment at home is largely unseen, those faces hide indoors in front of tv’s.   Driving in Port-au-Prince is intense.   As Willard said “the rules of the road constitute of who is the boldest;  the one with the most courage goes first.” Bernie spent a good deal of time trying to find his seatbelt, 3 of the men squished in the front seat, 3 of us in the back.  In moments we realized just how ridiculous looking for a seatbelt is in Haiti.  People hang out of trucks and cars, bicyclists grab the backs of trucks to coast up a hill.  Women dodge in and out of traffic with their children, horns replace signal lights.   I attempt to engage in the conversation in the vehicle but am overwhelmed and unable to think clearly.  Stuck at a standstill in traffic a young boy presses his face up against the window of the truck begging for money.  Willard tells us that when World Vision staff travels with him they give him direction as to which children could use the money, as opposed to which ones would exploit it.  Looking past these imploring brown eyes I see on the street an old woman, standing with a partial smile, a smile laced in sadness, nodding her head at the World Vision truck and mumbling.  I try to read her lips and make out “God bless you, God bless you.” I wonder what the World Vision truck represents to her.   We climbed the hills, noticing fewer and fewer people lining the streets, the area looking more up kept, stone walls lining the streets.  I kick myself for not doing more study on the history of Haiti.  Arriving at the hotel I am struck by it’s rustic beauty.  Entire areas of the hotel open to the sky, marble stairs and flooring, gorgeously crafted wooden furniture, beautiful artwork.  I think of my sister April and what I wouldn’t do to ship some of this beautiful wooden furniture home to her.  We are given our keys to our rooms, the same as any American hotel room key, automated. I head down to check mine out, it seems the hotel has an Italian flare, well, as my extremely limited travel savvy mind would imagine an Italian flare to look like.  Clay walls, stonewashed perhaps, beautiful heavy wooden doors, marble floor and staircases, gorgeous iron posted headboards.    We met together for a late lunch and discussed more potential plans.  I ordered a Creole Chicken sandwich and Diet Coke, reviewing with the team about food safety.  They explain to us that it is not necessarily that the fresh food is bad but that the bacteria here would be different than the bacteria at home and that difference could make our bodies react.  Only bottled water, no dairy or fresh fruit or vegetables.  I avoided the coleslaw on my plate, simply because I wanted to do everything in my power not to get sick on this trip.  I didn’t want any illness holding me back from experiencing all that there was to experience.   Excitement was in the air, as we wondered what we would be exposed to, how it would alter our world view and what we could come home with to offer up for change.  We discussed Mayor Woodside and Brian Jones’ arrival and how we might best serve their experience and get their thoughts before they left Haiti.  We certainly were in planning stage, although somewhat aware that the trip itself would likely direct our thinking and planning in ways we couldn’t imagine at this point.  If we had had any idea of what was to come.   Willard took us around the hotel to take pictures of the architecture, the view, artwork etc.  I attempted to catch a picture of the homes, many mere shelters on the hillside, and was astounded at how they had built right into the cliff and the thousands of families those homes represented. I wished I had brought my long lens for my camera, the sun was playing beautifully with the mountains in the distance and I knew that my short lens wouldn’t capture it in the way I was seeing it.  But then again that is always the struggle with the camera, the attempt to capture the beauty meant only for the natural eye.  I had debated bringing the long lens but packing restrictions made my decision for me and now I wished I’d spent a few more hours shuffling the suitcase, trying to make it fit.  I had grand ambitions of coming home with some beautiful photography of the areas we would visit, the projects and the beautiful people.  There is something strikingly beautiful about Haitians.  I can’t quite put my finger on it, but they have beautiful skin and bodies and dark, imploring eyes. A little frustrated that I wouldn’t be able to capture the photo quite like how I would like, I decided to head back down to my room to email Chad that we had all arrived safely in Haiti.  I also knew I needed to pump off some milk before we were to meet World Visions’ Paul-Émile at 6pm for orientation.   I entered my room still somewhat unsure of how comfortable I was with the accommodations.  They were certainly clean and beautiful but didn’t feel like my own limited Canadian/American travelling experience. I wanted to adjust as quickly as possible to all things, I had no time for worrying or being uncomfortable with such unimportant details as Canadian luxury, especially putting into context that our accommodations were the best in the city and tailored for travelers.  I checked the bed for any bugs, the closet kept making a creaking noise so I checked to see if there were any gecko’s or animal friends I would have to adjust to.  I rooted around for my bug spray to spray the screens in the window.  I wanted to take no unnecessary risks.  I was struggling to get online connection and in the process of rebooting when I heard a horrible rumble and briefly thought someone had dropped something substantial upstairs.  It sounded like a major piece of infrastructure  had fallen.  Within seconds the earth began to shake, lamps and mirrors broke and crashed to the floor.  My chest tightened and fear welled up so quickly within myself I began calling on God with every fiber in my being.  Never before in my life had I called on God so freely, so without hesitation or self awareness. Then it settled and I thought it was over and for a moment thought it would be quite a story to share once we got home.  I remember thinking that they probably wouldn’t keep us in this hotel for the night.  But within seconds, and I have no idea how many, the earth shook with more vigor than I’d ever imagined possible.  A picture of my family flashed in front of my mind and I thought astounded, surprised at God asked, “THIS is it?”  Before I  had left I had been certain I was supposed to come, but had an uneasiness. Now I was surprised to think this would be the end of the road for me, this was how I was really going to die.    I couldn’t differentiate between the trembling in the earth and the trembling in my body as I attempted to run for the door frame and brace myself.  I caught myself wondering if the ceiling fell in, 3 stories above me, if they would ever be able to dig me out.  There was no table to crawl under, only a doorframe I was second guessing it’s stability.  Cries rose up, deafening cries from everywhere, including from deep within myself.  Guttural pleas to God for protection.  There was no doubt that this was an earthquake, even though I had never felt one before.  I wondered if I would live through it to talk about it.   I managed to get my sneakers back on and pry open my door.  The garden outside of it, that just moments before I had been trying to photograph adequately, was full of people raising their hands to God and praying with everything in their bodies “Mon Seigneur, Mon seigneur!”  It struck me just how uninhibited they were.  This image is forever burned in my mind, a cloud of dust surrounding the blackest arms reaching towards the heavens, pleading with God for their lives.   I attempted to move aside debris to climb the now cracked marble staircase, calling out to team members, there was dust everywhere.  My hands and legs were slow to respond to my brains demands for movement. The dinning area, just one hour ago, so beautiful, was entirely demolished and I wondered if this collapse was the initial rumble I had heard. I  called out to the team, wondering where they would be in the hotel and then I saw Bernie, then Laura, Willard came out of the dust and finally Mike.  We were all miraculously ok.   We began dusting the plaster from our bodies, shaking the cement from our hair.  Laura made a comment that she could just imagine telling her family about this event and Bernie and I were quick to say we were … Continue reading Haitian Earthquake Jan 12, 2010