(apologies for the late post. wifi was sketchy yesterday. We solved the problem with a personal hotspot, compliments of Virgil Kelly) - Josh Eastman
3/12/15
Greetings from Fort Liberte! As of now, half our group is
lounging downstairs in the living and dining rooms, slowly digesting our hearty
dinner of rice, beans, chicken, and an AMAZING red sauce which, I believe, is
an old recipe passed down from Mary mother of Jesus (it’s that good). The other
half, where I am at the moment, are reclining in the cool of the night on the
roof, gazing at the stars above and listening to the soft sounds of the ocean
waves blending melodiously with the sharp chirps of the crickets. The breeze
carries a light scent of charcoal, and I can still taste the sweetness of the
Haitian Cocacola mixing with the darkness of the beans on my tongue.
The first day here in Haiti (or half day, if we are to be
honest) was uneventful, quiet, and beautiful. Expecting intense heat, we were
instead met with an overcast sky and a soothing breeze as we got off the old
WW2 DC-3 (featuring the most comfortable airplane chairs in the entire world)
that brought us to this small island nation. In fact, the cool weather has
followed us all day, providing a very thankful respite from the heat Florida
offered yesterday.
Going through security was a chaotic breeze, featuring lots
of yelling and bag tossing and general controlled confusion as we entered Haiti
in the brand new visitors center. We immediately got loaded in the stuffy
busses and after picking up a couple members of the trip from Chicago (Larry
and Christina), we made the long drive to Fort Liberte.
I cannot speak for those who have already made the trip, but
I, a Haiti newbie, couldn’t keep my eyes off the surrounding country. It was a cacophony of sights, sounds,
and smells, blending and swirling to make my eyes widen around every turn.
Shacks next to cell-phone billboards, crying children and American hip-hop
blaring, the scent of roasting meat mixing with the sour stink of sewage caused
a rather discontenting assault on the senses, a bitter mix of contradictions
wrapped up in poverty delivered in faded colors. A light rain followed us the whole
busride up, slacking off as we finally reached the dark green compound.
The next several hours were split between unpacking and
sightseeing as the medicine was unloaded and divided. There were several
moments of panic when some of the soap and, horrifically, Nutella went missing,
but after a frantic search of the bags the lifesaving hazelnut spread (and the
soap I guess) were found. As the box work slacked off, a large portion of us
broke off the visit the clinic and the orphanage. The whole time, we were
followed by a group of beginning children, some begging for money or objects,
some begging for attention (we strove to give overwhelming amounts of the
second one). Those of us who have friends here were greeted warmly and with
much hugging and back slapping, laughter accenting the day with its bright
shine.
After dropping the medicine off at the clinic, the group,
once again, broke off into two groups. The first one, most of the old-hands,
stayed at the clinic to put away and organize the medication. For the clinic
group, the work was preparing medicine packs for the days to come, working
swiftly and efficiently with much joy and fellowship.
The other half of us, the group I was in, were led by Glenn (who proved to be
an excellent guide regardless of his ridiculous hairstyle) to the Fort that
provides the namesake of the town. We didn’t get to go into the old Fort (a
squatter has created barriers of thorns and sticks in the doorways) but we did
get to climb to the top, enjoying a fantastic view of the waters around us.
Walking back, we briefly popped our head into an old Catholic Church and made
our way back home.
Now, we rest, both our bodies and our souls. Once again, as
a newbie, I can’t speak for the older hands (or even the other fresh arrivals),
but time to sit and reflect on all that I’ve seen and heard is something I am
actively pursuing. Though I have been out of the country several times in my
life, I have never been (at least since I can remember) in a country quite like
this. Poverty isn’t a problem- it’s a reality. It’s hard for me to put into
words what it’s like to be here in a third world country where most people
adhere to the vile practice of voodoo. Imagine living in a forest your entire
life, the trees peaceful and the sunlight, though sometimes waning, constant.
Now imagine waking up to that same forest, but after a strong storm. The bark,
once shiny and strong, have been stripped clean to reveal deep rot penetrating
the core of the roots. That’s what it was like to land here.
There are no new sins or virtues here in Haiti. Human nature
is the same, our depravity and God’s love is no different, but things are
different. In America, we are whitewashed tombs rotting from the inside,
content to retire to a life of football and buffets, content in our condition.
Yet here, the rot is more honest. Money is an excellent perfume to cover up the
stench of our sin, a perfume the Haitian people simply don’t have. Here in
Haiti, sin, and its brutal realities, are seen simply, not hidden by large
houses or shiny cars. It’s more real here, more true.
So far, I have learned that foreign mission trips aren’t to
places more “sinful” or more “in need” of Christ than our own nation- mission
“fields” are places where the devils dark decay is more evident. We,
Christians, are all called to missions- the scent of sewage is just easier to
spot here. I urge you to look into yourself, into those around you, and see
what ALL of us truly are- sinners, tombs, rotting souls, in DESPERETE need of a
Saviors Love, a God’s Grace.
Tonight, I ask for your prayers. Pray for our safety. Pray
for the effectiveness of our mission here. Pray for the power of God’s Word to
be revealed. Above all, though, pray for God’s Will to be done. Not just here,
but back in the states as well. Everywhere, in fact. Pray for the healing and
witness of ALL people.
Well, the battery is nearly dead, so this marks the end of
the first blog! Live in prayer, meditate on Scripture, pursue God’s will. We in
Haiti are deeply thankful for your prayers and already miss our church family
back home.
In
Christ,
Jacob
Eastman.
