I spent today making Haitian food in my very own kitchen. Y'know, my kitchen with the electric stove, running water, sharp knives, and groceries to spare. As opposed to the Haitian food I had on Monday that was prepared in bowls on the ground, cooked over propane burners or between layers of charcoal. With no running water and not a proper paring knife to be found. Made by a few women with nimble fingers and huge hearts, who worked all morning long on a feast to share with strangers.
It was a day I will not forget.
The day I spent 8 hours in Haiti.
Yep, just 8 hours.
Eric and I left straight from church on Sunday and headed for Lindbergh terminal, where, instead of our typical Sunday afternoon nap, we dined on airport food (it was yummy) and awaited our flight to Miami, via Chicago. Finally climbing out of the shuttle and checking into our hotel at midnight, we turned out the lights only to be awakened exactly 4 hours later to leave for Haiti.
We landed at 9:30 and cruised through customs. Stepping into the dusty courtyard with a hundred people milling around, we tried to look confident as we searched for a man holding a sign that said The Crossing. We were met by a handsome gentleman wearing a bright white polo shirt and shades, looking very much like Usher. We liked him immediately. Mostly because he was rescuing us, but also because he's really cool. And he's a doctor. Didie is his name, and he works for Hunger Relief International, the organization that oversees the orphanage we sponsor.
Didie took us to a small pickup truck where we spent the next 45 minutes alternating between awe of our surroundings and hysterical laughter at how insane the traffic is. I couldn't help cracking up as we played chicken with oncoming vehicles and narrowly avoided collision at least 30 times. I wasn't scared, because, well, it wasn't my car! And most of the time we weren't going fast enough to be severely injured if we crashed. It. Was. Awesome. I marvelled at how many vehicles in Port Au Prince retain their side mirrors. It should not be possible.
We arrived at the orphanage, and it's surrounded by cinder block walls, just like everything else in Port Au Prince. Presumably to keep theives out, but the gate doesn't really lock. Some of the walls are crumbly because of the earthquake and because, well, it's Haiti. When I asked, Didie told me, "Haiti was bad before the earthquake. The earthquake just made it worse."
Christy and Grayson were the only ones from our team who knew Eric and I are going to show up in the middle of their trip. They met us at the gate so they could film our surprise entrance. On the way, we said hello to the women who were in the courtyard busy cooking the aforementioned feast.
See, usually, the kiddos eat 2 meals a day (provided by HRI). Noodles for breafast, and rice & beans for dinner. There may be other things, but I got the impression that's about it. So having a big meal in the middle of the day was definitely a treat. Our team had given money to the ladies, who went and bought chicken(!) and other yummy stuff.
There are 30 kiddoss, and they are truly delightful. I never saw them argue or fight even once! I realized that they literally have nothing to fight over. NOTHING. We stepped through the building, and when I say through, that's what I mean. You kinda walk indoors/outdoors all the time. There are few real doors. A couple rooms do have locked doors (food storage, supply storage) because everything not locked may be stolen. From what I understand, the laid-back nature of the Haitians leads to not much violent crime, but the poverty leads to theft.
Back to the story. We stepped through and found our (surprised) Crossing team hanging out with the children, mostly holding them. The youngest orphan is 6, so imagine children ages 6+ just wanting to be held. More than anything else, affection speaks to the soul of a child.

This works well for me, because, well, I'm just not fabulous at playing with children. As soon as they were old enough, I taught my kids to play Uno and SkipBo so I could "play" with them in a way that didn't make me crazy. I'm weird. Don't judge. So...my (shhh) fears about playing with children for a few hours were allayed when I realized they just wanted to be held and talked to. I bonded most with Francine. She fell asleep on my shoulder. I fell in love with her.
I learned to say Mesi (mah-SEE), which is thank-you, and tre bel (tray-bell), which is very pretty. And that's about it. The oldest girl is 17, and she and I looked through the pictures on my phone so I could show her my kiddos. She did point out Braden, and ask, "he your son?" Yep, my kid's a looker, even to a Haitian girl. She was tre bel too.
Everyone had to try on my sunglasses and pose for pictures in them. By the time I left, they were SOBAR (stretched out beyond all recognition). And my hair had so many little hands in it...I truly believe that was the true test of my day. Enduring all the hair-touching. I have a thing about my hair and face being touched. I avoid getting my hair cut because my scalp's so tender (and it's very boring to sit that long, but that's a story for another day.)
Here's how my text convo with Holland went when we got back to cell service:
Me: "...the kids are really happy though. They LOVED putting their hands all in my hair."
Holland: "I bet you LOVED that."
Me: "Haha you know your mom very well."
Eric and I toured the building with Davidson, the man who lives there and runs it. We saw the school room (where we danced to Rhianna. Well, I danced. The kids danced. Eric did not.), the office, the roof, where the non-working (because it's electric & there's no electricity) water tank sits (we bought them a generator!), the toilets (three; they flush using 5-gal buckets), the shower (where you dump a bucket of water on yourself), and the sleeping rooms. Here's the girls' room, where we stopped to talk with Christy, Davidson, and Didie about their needs. Grayson was filming.

Davidson's son is Terrence. He's like the mascot of the place. Every time we turned around, he was taking a whizz wherever he happened to be standing outside. It was the funniest thing.

We had our feast at 1 pm. Eric and I helped our team fill plates and serve the food. They had brought the school benches down from the rooftop room and put them in the front patio. A woman showed us how much food to put on each plate. It was a TON. My kids could never eat that much, but I'm told they eat every bit of their food at every meal. I guess that's what not-snacking will do for you.
I saw this young man wearing a yellow thing on his head & realized Luke was missing the sleeves off his t-shirt. :) So I added the shades & he struck a pose. Behind him was the "special" table set for our team. I can't begin to explain how it felt to be treated so well by those with so little. What looks like a tablecloth in this picture is actually two towels. The ladies made this dinner as fancy as they could.

Here was the crazy thing: we finished filling 30+ plates and returned to the front patio to say the blessing, and those kiddos were seated politely with their plates in front of them, and no one had taken a single bite. My family can't walk from the kitchen to the table without sneaking a bite. What training; what politeness. I was amazed.

(That's Francine in the pink.)
Eric and I had to say goodbye before everyone was finished, as we had a stop to make before returning to the airport. Six of us piled into the truck again and headed out to what I would call the "country". (We bounced around like dice in a Yahtzee cup. Grayson and I are now far closer than we ever were before, after that experience. Also I need to go to the chiropractor.)
Some time ago, God gave Davidson's late father some land for a new orphanage. They began building but lost their funding. We asked to be driven there, where we walked around, prayed over Davidson and the land, and got a picture of what life could be like for these children. If they could live there, it would be beyond wonderful. They could have a garden. Goats. Chickens, maybe. And a yard. People, those children do not have a blade of grass where they live. Instead, the could live here:

A fenced-in property with a maybe even a septic and a well and electricity! Imagine!
So we left with a plan: find the support and get these kiddos a new home. And see God build Davidson's faith. That what God began with his dad would be continued through him. And that God hasn't forgotten Compassion For All orphanage. I know I won't. Prior to this week, I cared about the children we were supporting. I thought our monthly support gave them some semblance of a good life. I suppose it does, but I was smacked in the face with the harsh reality that from my ivory tower, I do NOT get a good picture of what people really need. This 8-hour trip opened my eyes and lit in me a passion to do more.
First thing I wanted to do was head to the store & get those kiddos some new bed sheets. But guess what? We can't ship stuff to Haiti. It will never reach the intended recipients. Plus, their economy desperately needs us to do our purchasing there; not in Elk River. So I'm learning stuff like that, and I'm gonna do more about it.
I've also learned how to make diri kole (rice & beans) (the secret flavor is cloves!), also the chicken "gravy" to pour over it, and pikliz (Google it. I'm too tired to explain. It's delicious.) We ate Haitian food in our home today. It is cheap. If we did that a couple times a week, we could spend more money on Haitians. Interesting.
This is the end of a very long post. Thanks, Mom, for reading it to the end. I'm guessing no one else got this far. ;)
Love you!

P.S. The next trip is in August/September. Let me know if you want to go.