Reflections on Haiti, February, 2007

By Marge Boyd, a Witness

By Marge Boyd, a Witness

There was this place . . .
Remote and unreal to me as I contemplated it . . .
3,413 miles away . . . I needed shots to go there . . .
It was dangerous . . . a risk . . . I couldn’t drink the water . . .
It was hot with mosquitoes and disease and poverty . . .
A foreign country where my tongue was foreign . . .
There was this place.

There was this place . . .
Others had gone before me–
And convinced me I should go;
So I got the shots and packed the pills
And steeled my nerve
And swallowed the lump and prayed a prayer . . .
There was this place.

There was this place . . .
Teaming with people on people . . .
Grasping suitcases . . . shouting lost commands . . .
Jumbling . . . driving crazy . . .
Smiling . . . waiving . . . selling . . . hauling . . .
Walking . . . staring . . . starving . . . aching . . . dying . . .
There was this place.

There was this place . . .
And there were these people . . .
Beautiful people . . . with smiles of welcome . . .
Clasping hands . . . hiding painful stories . . .
Beautiful people . . . singing and dancing . . .
Painting and carving and shining shoes . . .
There were these people.

There were these people . . .
Nurses graduating in white, with braided hair and nurses caps . . .
Pastors anointed with the oil of ordination . . .
Women cooking and serving and laughing . . .
People of music, and words, and shouts, lifted hands and bowed heads . . .
People of prayer and faith and joy and hope and expectation . . .
There were these people.

There were these children . . .
Students with bright faces and colorful uniforms . . .
Shy smiles and curious touch . . .
Children serving and cooking, cleaning, and carrying . . .
Children of slavery with dark histories . . .
Children of possibilities and futures . . .
There were these children.

And this place, and these people, and these children
Disturbed me . . . discomfited me . . . altered me . . . taught me . . .
Touched my soul. . .
This place, these people, these children:
No longer remote, nor foreign . . .
No longer to be ignored, nor avoided . . .
Nor forgotten.

There is this place . . .
Of unspeakable poverty
Yet unquenchable hope;
There are these people and children . . .
Rising out of despair
To light the lamp . . .
There is this place that reaches for the hand of God.

(This reflection would be incomplete without a word about the incredible people who made the journey together:  Felix Ortiz (who I would trust with my life and whose driving skill was amazing-surpassed only by his ability to translate in at least 3 languages), Sharon Watkins (who led by example with her grace, insight, and powerful messages), Rick Lowery (who could make Old Testament stories alive and relevant to these times), Karen Yount (whose selflessness and generosity was unsurpassed), Sue Short (who served untiringly and brought new perspective to our daily debriefings), and Jerri Handy (whose commitment to working with CONASPEH and the Haitian people, along with her compassion and strong faith, is an inspiration).