I'm sitting here at the compound Blanchard in Port au Prince, Haiti. A few of us are writing in journals under one light and the stars on the roof. Others are teaching how to play the game, Euchre. The sound from the compound walls is a group of Haitians singing hymns. I'm looking out on the roof to the mountains on both sides. Lights twinkling. With the palm trees, from the roof, it looks like paradise.
Arriving in Haiti, I was very anxious and nervous. With recent reports of unsafe travel and the inability to communicate with my family, made it difficult. The customs at Haiti airport was a jumbled mess of chaos. We were traveling with 9 students and 6 practioners. We had 27 bags and 500 lbs of donated medicine. AS we flew over, you could see the devestation ahead of time. Crammed along the coasts, tons of tents, fallen buildings. When we landed and got our bags, it was confusing because we had so many tubs and everyone just grabbed whatever they could. Several men harrassed us for money to help. When we finally got outside, it was muggy - about 86 degrees. Before our senses could even register, we were rushed to 3 tap-taps - their mode of transportation. Basically, it's like sitting on benches on the sides of a truck.
The streets were rough - mostly all unpaved with large pot holes. The air was thick. The smell overwhelms you and makes it difficult to breathe. It was thick, smelled like sewage, overcrowdedness (if that's a word or a smell) and pollution. It felt like there was a plastic bag over my face and I couldn't get clean, fresh air. Or even as if you stand in front of an exhaust of a car and just let it blow the smoke directly in your face over and over again.
It took 25 min to arrive at the compound. The ride there was something I'll never forget. Tents were lined up. A naked woman standing there just washing her body. People everwhere. Motocycles whizzing past. Children barefoot and waving. You could see the destruction. Houses empty - just the foundation stood - if that. Small huts with people looking on an open flame. Stray dogs, goats, chickens with piles of trash everywhere. Women carrying baskets or even suitcases filled with a variety of different things on their head. A little girl, younger than Breally, carrying a bucket of water on her head down the street.
We get to the compound. Dinner is pumpkin soup. Haitians eat this Jan 1st for Independence from slavery. Masters used to be the only ones that could have pumpkin soup - so that's why the Haitians eat it. It was very spicy. After we met the volunteers that run HOM and "unpacked". The women and men have separate bunk quarters. My bed is an air mattress (to prevent bed bugs). I'm on the low bunk. I have to sleep in a mosquito net.
I already can't believe how much of a humbling experience this is. Its 1030 and the church group is still singing. Right next to our compound, when we look down from the roof, are tents that people live in. I can't believe how priveledged I am. These people have themselves and God - and they're greatful for that. That's incredible to me -- certainly different from the American philosophy. Lights are out.
Love to my family,
Britt
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