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                Hope the summer continues on in prosperity, fruitfulness, rest… hopefully we’re not too busy jumping from one busyness to the next to reflect on our lives. I’ve lately been doing a lot of that – especially since my trip to Haiti. In a land of such desolation, in the face of such tragedy, I find hope very much alive; alive in people’s stories and eyes… hope dies hard. Interestingly, I just read in Psalm 119:116b, “….And do not let me be ashamed of my hope.” It’s easy to equate hope with naivete. Let’s refuse to belittle hope in this way, as it alone has sustained and it alone will propel people like those in Haiti towards a better future.

                We arrived in Haiti and I immediately hit a brick wall… of humidity. We had late luggage and even later pickup (about 3 hours late). As you know, I was accompanied on this trip by brothers Jimmy (28) and Jason (15). We sat outside arrivals, in a breezeway of sorts, next to a cellphone cart and a trash pile. We finally trekked to the team house after enduring a brief but devastating tour of downtown Port au Prince (tragic). We set up tents on a concrete slab and planned the week.

                First, a word to the state of Port au Prince: I barely recognized it. Stacks of rubble 10 or 12 feet high piled in the medians, having simply been shoved there for lack of anywhere else to put it. Roads completely cracked down the middle. Tent villages are proliferate, “Red Cross” and “UN” and “UNICEF” logos everywhere, billowing like flags of Western philanthropy (for which the people are nothing but grateful, if a bit greedy). One tent village is built on top of a mass burial ground (150,000 bodies). People still wander the streets in droves, looking lost. There is such a feeling (again, still) of disorientation. So many homes were lost, so many people displaced… no one knows where to go or what to do. We found a teenage boy left for dead on the side of the streets – severely malnourished with wounds from what appeared to be abuse. We got a truck and took him to get medical attention but as we talked to the translators about it, he shook his head and said, “this is very common for us.”

                The first-hand reports we heard of the earthquake included the following: People simply ran out into the streets… hurt people, dying people, people missing limbs, people having babies, all in the street. There was no medical triage: it was first come, first serve and there was nowhere else to go. The congestion consisted not only of Port au Prince residents but anyone on the outskirts who could make it on foot into the city, seeking help. Finally the stench of rotting flesh overwhelmed, resulting in the necessary if somewhat insensitive mass burial movement.  

                People felt like the earth was spinning or shaking… many said they felt seasick for 3 days or more. Most of them had never lived through an earthquake, didn’t know what it was, and didn’t know what to do. In one family we met, the mother said that when the earthquake happened, she ran inside “for cover” but her 3 year old son started screaming at her to get out… he died and she escaped in time. Another woman was trapped for 2 days underneath her home before finally being pulled clear. She lost her left arm and is now afraid to go indoors.