The incredible kids at the Gradec Orphanage letting me hang with them
We arrived at the airport in Port Au Prince yesterday afternoon. Upon arriving, you realize you are in a different world. There were visible cracks in the walls in some places, a lot of hustle and bustle, and things were not--how shall i say--as organized as i've experienced in a few other travel destinations. After traveling across a tarmac and down an escalator, we were shuttled to the baggage area, passing several pallets of donated supplies, from food to boxes of gauze. Most of it was sitting, unmoved, awaiting who knows what.
it took me a while to scrap for my checked bag, but i finally got hold of it and loaded it onto a push cart Dwayne had secured for us. we hooked up in Miami to make it over here. Dwayne had a story of flight struggle you wouldn't believe, that landed him at the departure gate only minutes before our connecting Haiti flight, but he was--as he always is--hopeful and cheerful. it was that same spirit we encountered when we were greeted by our gracious hosts, Pastor Wilson and Yonel (his assistant and translator) of the Grandec Orphanage, and that same spirit we maintained as the Haitian sun greeted us outside the airport beating down on the broken roads and rubble-filled sidewalks that made up the dangerous maze that was the path to our temporary home.
we rode for a good distance on a road that could only be safely navigated by a military-grade humvee vehicle. we were in an old cargo van. there were moments i thought it might tip over, the road was that uneven. the hills were so steep, i don't know how me made it up them. i didn't think about it. i just rode. and ride we did, through a ballet of life that made New York at rush hour seem like a walk in the park. people were everywhere, and life was moving along at a rapid pace. it seemed as if every other building was in some state of transition, from frame to rubble to empty space.
we arrived at a makeshift tin gate, held together with bungee cord. no sign. no pomp and circumstance. we had to walk the rest of the distance up a rocky hill because the van couldn't make it all the way. this was a "new" space for the facility. a temporary one, because the other one was destroyed in the earthquake, claiming 6 young lives from the group i was about to meet.
the next moment threw me slightly. well, caught me off guard. when they opened the gate and we walked through, over a dozen of the most beautiful little children you've ever seen rushed us like we were superstars. well, they rushed Dwayne like he was a superstar (he'd visited and helped before, and his church sends regular support), and me like i was the superstar's friend. i didn't mind the residual love, because it was genuine. hugs, smiles, and touches made my afternoon, and instantly made my trip worthwhile. i looked around at the place beyond the gate.
and my heart sank.
a block frame that once used to be a home, with a dirt and gravel yard, one makeshift tent, a tarp rigged between what was left of a roof and a broken down truck. an old mattress on top of a warehouse pallet. welcome home.
we walked around and greeted everyone, including the young mother who works and lives here. lying on the mattress outside was a beautiful little baby girl who, with her smile, startled me into remembrance of the sleeping baby girl i left only hours before in my own bed, safe at home. i found myself telling myself to "hold it together" inside my head. i've had many more moments like that since, and i've only been here a day.
after having a wonderful dinner of plantain, salad, rice, and goat (there are vegetarians in Haiti, we joked, so they didn't mind my not eating the goat), we enjoyed a cold Coca-Cola from a glass bottle. yeah, i don't generally drink carbonated soda, but it was a nice indulgence that took me back to my childhood. when was the last time i drank a soda out of a bottle anyway?
we talked about needs, how and where we would put up shelter, and planned out what to do with the next couple of days. Yonel is an extremely talented young brother who wants to go to college, so we talked about helping him with that goal, in between scouting a location to help build a new facility in the future.
as darkness started to fall, we started playing with the children. my silly butt took advantage of the opportunity to practice a little 3-card monty, a game i'm having to learn to master for an upcoming role in the play Topdog/Underdog. the kids got a kick out of it. we laughed and danced and played well into the night, and even the darkness didn't stop us.
under the moonlight, the children sang and danced and played. i couldn't help but to think about how much fun we were having. no X-Boxes, so Wii's, no electricity, no running water, no real bathroom, no pantry full of snacks, no music and satellite dishes. but we were having a blast.
then bedtime came, and i watch 14 children arrange themselves on one full size mattress, under a tarp, next to a broken down truck. and i saw one baby girl, only a month or so younger than my own child, laid down to rest on a folded-in-half blanket on a bed of gravel. and my heart wept. i'm not going to lie. if it had not been for utter fatigue, i never would've eventually passed into the sleep realm. i woke up every time i heard the baby cough, a remembrance of my own child's nightly stirrings fresh in my subconscious mind.
today, Yonel grabbed us an internet signal with a generator, so i've got a minute to blog. i'll update FB with a pic or video as i can. i'm going to work to remain faithful with updates here. it's amazing what little things mean a lot. i think about all those bags of food i saw at the airport, yet to reach people, and all the kids who enjoyed the snacks and toys we brought; how the mother of the baby was happy to receive a tent to set up; just how far the money Dwayne's church alone sends down here monthly goes, and i realize: the biggest difference in the lives of people isn't made by massive organization. it's made by a network of small efforts, targeted to specific places. this is where the rubber meets the road.
okay, i've got to give over the signal before the gas goes from the generator. i'll work to post some photos soon.
